The Atlantis Incident
by AtlantisJoeFan
Summary: The further adventures of John and Cat Sheppard. Life has moved on for the couple and they find some time out of the busy grind to be together. But, it's never that simple, is it? Expect some adult themes, adventure, romance, whump - all the usual!
1. Chapter 1

**Rating is T – sometimes more adult themes  
Summary: Romance, adventure, emotional and physical whump with John Sheppard and now established O/C Cat  
Season: Becoming more AU as time progresses, though still very firmly in the canon. Set about 3 years after Enemy at the Gate.  
Spoilers: Season 5, if any.  
Disclaimer: Not mine. Though John Sheppard is in my guilty imagination**

**A/N: - This is a follow up to my story **_**When All Else Fails **_**and all my other John/Cat stories. You don't need to have read the others to understand this one, though it might help with some of the characters and events referred to. **

The suns shone down on the gleaming frosted ocean, sparkling like diamonds fractured into a million pieces as the waves broke at the edges of the soft beach. From way up in the sky the shapes on the sand were many limbed and multi-coloured, occasionally shifting and gyrating. There was something intimate and special about the little scene unfolding, and a closer look would identify two bodies entwined in an embrace, loosely covered with a bright red and blue quilt. Sounds rippled up from the couple, laughter mostly, showing they were clearly very happy and comfortable with each other. Indeed, looking closer, there was a remarkable familiarity between the two along with, what was quite clear from their current position, a powerful physical attraction. Some might be jealous of them: the man, dark and handsome, though hair speckled with grey, and physically lean and athletic; the woman, blonde and curvaceous, with a tinkling and infectious laugh. But it would be a hard-hearted person who did less than smile at the display of love.

Cat lay back on the soft sand and breathed a contented sigh. It wasn't often that she and John had time away from everything. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time. Not for this long anyway. This was their third day, their tent standing a little back from what could sometimes be powerful breezes that hit the coastline. She looked up to the blue sky, trying to breathe in every second of the last few hours before they had to head back to Atlantis. A large hand casually stroked her belly with hypnotic little movements then stopped heavily, its owner having fallen asleep yet again. She didn't think she'd ever seen John sleep as much as he had in the last few days. In fact, there were many things they'd done more of than they'd found time for years and she smiled at some of the recent and pleasurable memories.

She shut her eyes but sleep wouldn't take her, thinking about how little time they had left in this paradise. In the last three years much had happened and there were things they both needed to go back for, but she just wished she could freeze time for a moment. Most of all, there was a certain five year old who would be missing her mum and dad and no doubt running rings around her many aunts and uncles back in the city. It had been hard to leave Mona, but honestly it had also been a fantastic feeling of freedom and a little bit of Cat had to admit that the pressure of looking after the feisty little girl could be both tiring and aggravating at times. Still, she was looking forward to holding her daughter in her arms again and sitting down quietly at night, reading Mona's latest favourite book. Her daughter had a voracious appetite for stories and had already worked her way through all the books intended for children twice her age. And then there was the matter of her other 'role'.

Since her return 'from the dead' three years ago, life had veered in an interesting direction. It had taken a while for her to recover fully from the ordeal, her back needing (and still so even now) physiotherapy and her leg having to be re-broken and set properly , but eventually she'd felt up to thinking about her future. Her job as Chief Archivist had been very well filled by Janet Donaldson and she wasn't about to force the issue there: that really wouldn't have been right after all the woman had done to bring her and Mona back. As well, Cat had never been the kind of archivist who sat in a darkened room and simply catalogued contentedly. Instead, she loved to get out and about, to meet those who were connected to the artefacts she found and she had become quite adept at talking to people who were charmed by her wit, intelligence and openness. Her 'new' role, now two years in, was as a kind of roving ambassador, going into possibly awkward situations and smoothing the way for The Atlantians. It had been exciting, sometimes dangerous, and John had been bitterly opposed to it for several months. But, what Cat wanted she usually got and, though there had been some sticky moments, she had never felt in real danger.

Of the mysterious sect of women who'd been so involved in her and Mona's kidnapping, nothing had been heard and she sincerely hoped rather than believed that it would remain that way. Mona's third birthday had come and gone with a flurry of security and worry, especially by Rodney who was still, in some way, trying to make up for what he saw as his mistakes a year previously. But, no strange ship appeared and no attempt was made to take her daughter or her again. As for The Asgard, there'd been no sight or sound. Maybe they really had all been destroyed, in this reality at any rate?

She sighed again and turned towards John, propping herself up on one elbow and doing what he would call 'perusing'. She still loved to look at him when he was asleep and loved it even more when he was naked as he was right now. His stomach was so tempting that she couldn't resist bending forward and kissing it, causing him to jump at first before his mind caught up with his body and he decided to do something else about the beautiful woman who was paying him so much intimate attention.

A hand began to stroke her hair and he whispered, 'You're so beautiful. I'm very lucky, you know.'

'Mmmm...I know,' she murmured back, burying a tongue in his belly button. She felt him squirm underneath her and his body was most definitely responding to her ministrations now. In the distance, she heard a gently vibration like a insect on a lazy summer's afternoon in the English countryside but it seemed so far away that she dismissed it as nothing.

It was John who recognised the unfamiliar sound and groaned. 'Damn it! That's my radio. What the hell do they want? I bet it's Rodney.' He lifted her head and kissed her gently on the lips then rose and walked over to the tent, allowing her a full view of his pert bottom and well-muscled back, to find the source of the irritating buzz that would undoubtedly bring real life back to them with a bang. She heard his voice and registered the annoyance in it, smiling at the thought of Rodney Mckay getting a firm telling off.

Suddenly, John's tone changed to one of alarm. She heard him shout from the tent. 'What? McKay, tell me what's happening. McKay!'

When he reappeared, his expression was stern and he'd lost the colour from his face. To her questioning gaze he replied, 'It was Rodney. He said something about Atlantis being in trouble and then there was a huge explosion in the background. I heard him shout and the radio went dead. I think something bad has happened, Cat. We have to go back. Now!'

Her mind was in turmoil, thoughts of Atlantis, and Mona, and all their friends in trouble worrying them both beyond belief. However, as ever, John was back in military mode, expressionless apart from a worried frown that occasionally flitted across his face. Within minutes their temporary 'nest' had been stowed away into the back packs, and they were jogging back to the jumper, parked a little distance from the shore line. Very little had been said between them since the radio call was so unceremoniously cut off and she allowed herself one last glimpse back at the little place they'd called home for the last three days, wondering if they'd see it again. The silence between them would have been oppressive had they not have developed an almost telepathic understanding of each other; nothing needed to be said until it needed to be.

John ran ahead into the jumper, throwing his pack into the corner and Cat flung herself in behind, fully expecting to be launched fairly quickly into the air. What they were met with was absolute stillness and silence. He busied himself by industriously twiddling a few knobs and pressing some buttons, but the ship remained steadfastly dead. With a sudden thought he clicked his radio but nothing happened and he was met only with static then he smacked the cockpit with frustration and shouted 'crap', causing the little ship to rattle lifelessly.

'What is it? Why won't the ship fly?' Yes, it did seem like a stupid question, but she couldn't think of anything else to say.

John turned, concern written over his features. With someone else, he might have thrown a sarcastic comment back, but he'd never been like that with her. Humour yes, sarcasm absolutely not. 'I don't know. But this could be a problem. We have to get back to Atlantis and that means walking, which is a long way and not that easy. ' The look on his face spoke of his concern for her and she knew then what she had to do. He paused again, once more trying the controls and once more nothing happened.

'Well then! What are we waiting for? You know what they say, the sooner we leave, the soon we'll arrive.' She tried a brave smile, but suspected that it looked more like a grimace. Cat wasn't stupid and John didn't need to tell her what the dangers would be. The planet was safe in pockets, but in others the dense undergrowth and intemperate weather, as well as some of the more unpleasant creatures to be found in The Galaxy, were what lay between them and the city. Almost as an afterthought she added,' and, just how far is it and how long is this little journey going to take?'

John simply looked at her for a long moment then almost imperceptibly nodded and Cat realised that she was now firmly in the 'crewman who I must keep safe' role rather than 'wife who is quite crap at managing uncomfortable situations' position that she took in real life. It would just be easier for him to take the professional and soldierly route. Despite her ability to meet new people in strange situations and the many adventures she'd already had since arriving in this galaxy, these days she was definitely a home comforts kind of girl and she wasn't kidding herself that the next few days would be very difficult.

'If we keep up a good pace, we should be at the ocean's edge in three days. Then, there's the tricky job of finding a way across to the city. There's a little cove where Carson used to go fishing: hopefully, his fishing boat is still there.' He carefully left out all mention of tides, storms and sea monsters and instead attempted a confident smile which didn't really come off.

They packed as many provisions and weapons as they could and donned the BDU's that were kept in the jumper. John always insisted upon a spare kit for him whenever he travelled and she had automatically done the same, which was just as well because she knew that standard issue spares were way to small for her more ample than most curves. At least the activity stopped her thinking about home and what might have happened. Fears for Mona had left a tight and painful knot in her stomach that threatened to rise to a debilitating panic if she let it, and that wouldn't do either of them any good. She knew him too well not to understand that he was struggling with similar emotions but also that he would do his utmost not to show them. Only once did he make direct eye contact with her and the barely contained distress was lurking close to the surface. Then, he'd turned away and busied himself once again with packing the bare minimum. Cat's back pack was agonisingly heavy but she suspected it was nothing to his. Left behind were his surf board and the tent and quilts which were both Athosian and not designed for trekking. And then, after he had taken one more reading on his detector which clearly indicated, with the absence of a compass, the direction of Atlantis, they were off, walking at as fast a pace as she could muster, in a tense silence.

Occasionally, he glanced at his watch, no doubt assessing how long they'd been travelling and worrying about their slow progress. He'd said very little in the last couple of hours staying focussed on the task and trying to avoid destructive thoughts about the city and all that it housed. Cat envied his ability to fall back on his training, but also to compartmentalise and put away the kind of worry which could quickly derail his calm control. So, instead of attempting what she knew would be a useless attempt at conversation, she concentrated on the landscape around her. Once away from the coastline, a wide open plain stretched far into the shimmering haze everywhere she looked with only a rare suggestion of undergrowth poking through the hardened earth. It didn't seem possible that they would ever leave this heat-battered place or be able to find somewhere to rest at night. Sometimes, a distant scurrying or the sound of a hunter finding its prey suggested other dangers than the powerful suns and at one point there had been a high-up swirl of large birds; she hadn't wanted to think about what was beneath them on the ground. At regular intervals, John indicated they should pause and take a sip of water, but he never allowed them to stay too long.

It was just about as the suns were setting when they began to feel under their feet rather than see that they were heading into a different landscape. Cat breathed a sigh of relief and touched John's arm for the first time since they'd set out. He turned and gave her a small smile, giving away the concern that he too had felt but had not expressed. They really needed to get out of the open and find some kind of shelter for the night and somewhere to light a fire and stay warm. Without a tent, they would need to rely on their sleeping bags and each other's warmth, which under normal circumstances she'd be more than happy to do. Nearby was a small copse, no not really that, more a small bunch of bushes, but it was enough to give them some shelter from the elements and they would be able to light a fire in front of it if necessary.

So, in the cold midnight air, Cat and John slipped under the zipped together sleeping bag, not really satisfied by the power bars they'd allowed themselves to consume and both sick with worry about Mona and Atlantis. They hadn't spoken about what might have happened, it just wasn't their way, but needed desperately to find the soothing companionship of the other. Strange and eerie sounds filled the darkness and, as John put a strong protective arm around her shoulders and drew her close, she wondered how much sleep either of them would have. Instead, she allowed herself to focus on his breathing and the warmth rising from his chest: it never ceased to amaze her how much heat the man could emit as though he had some kind of internal generator. Against her left cheek she could feel the comforting tickle of his chest hair, soothing her as he inhaled and stroking her as he let his breath out. In need of more of the closeness that might keep away the night fears, she moved her arm underneath his t-shirt, making gentle but firm circles across his belly, and she felt him take an intake of breath, his arm tightening around her shoulder. This wasn't the time for sex; she knew that; she just wanted to feel him and to know that he was there.

She must have fallen asleep at some point and in her dreams she was in a dark room, coldness lapping at her feet. As she looked down, water started to fill the room, running then rushing in from some unseen opening, climbing up her legs to her chest and up her chin. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe and in a panic she opened her eyes, trying to shout for help but unable to. In the darkness, she became aware of a weight on top of her and a hand over her mouth.

'Shush! It's okay. Just keep quiet. Something's out there,' John whispered.

In the distance, she heard the sound of a large animal growling menacingly and of something else much closer. John took away his hand and raised himself silently to a crouching position, gun pointing into the darkness. There was a sound much nearer, something in the undergrowth, then a huge roar as a large body came hurtling towards them.

***

Rodney Mckay stirred to the sound of his youngest daughter climbing into bed with them. Little Janie was now almost two years old and quite different to Rosie who had become quite the little lady, very serious and studious. Janie was hyper energetic and loved to play games; a really beautiful little girl with red hair and blue eyes just like her mother. The trouble was that her 'games' usually started at some ungodly hour in the morning and, given the half-light in the bedroom right now, it was clearly to be one of her early awakenings. He felt Katie stir and attempt to fend off the morning attack, but knew before it started that there was no point: Janie was a daddy's girl and it was daddy's hugs and daddy's attention that she required this time of the day.

He sighed, not sure whether to be content or exasperated. If someone had told Rodney Mckay ten years ago that he would be married with two daughters by the time he hit his mid-forties, he would have undoubtedly thrown some cutting comment back. And yet, he was really happier than he'd ever been. Not only that, but his Atlantis family was an extended one and his friendships were firm and deep-rooted. And yet, sometimes he longed for some space and isolation, some time to think and be. To give her due, Katie knew this and did try to find him some room to be by himself, but it was becoming less and less possible with the responsibilities of fatherhood.

By the time he had extracted himself from Janie's arms and pacified her by taking her to breakfast, his older daughter sitting in dignified silence at the table all the while, it was gone 9 o'clock and he was anxious to get on with the day. With Sheppard off-world, or at least off-city, there had been a little extra pressure on him. Not that Lorne wasn't a very good substitute, but he didn't have John's intuition nor, and here was something that Rodney would only ever admit in private, his intelligence, so that he had been called upon to manage even minor events and send out the appropriate repair crews. Yesterday, a defect in the lighting for a distant and not very used corridor had caused something of a panic with the 'B' team and Rodney had needed to take control of the situation and send of the electricians to the site. Of course, being Rodney McKay he made damn sure everyone knew about it too, which even after just a couple of days was not exactly endearing him to the generally amicable Lorne whose temper was becoming somewhat frayed.

Thankfully, it had been Teyla's turn to look after Mona the previous night or he might be feeling even more grumpy that he was at present. How John and Cat managed the little creature he couldn't imagine: she was probably the most energetic, fiery and, again he hated to say it, intelligent child he'd ever met and was also the most exhausting. He knew that, when Teyla did surface with the little Sheppard, she would look as though she'd been running a marathon – and that was also saying something given Teyla's level of fitness!

He headed towards his labs. Perhaps this morning he might have an uninterrupted few hours working on his latest pet project: another update to the sensors. Even though The Genii threat was now virtually non-existent apart from a few scattered insurgents, and The Wraith under Todd's leadership were still intent on feeding upon each other, the retro-virus having successfully been utilised by his leading faction against the his less fortunate enemies, there were still threats that occasionally surfaced and always the fear that some new 'big-bad' as John would call it, might be ready to surface. Also, there had been a number of little and unexplained glitches recently, nothing consistent but unnerving all the same and although he would never claim to be intuitive, something just felt a little 'off'.

Annoyingly, Zelenka was already at work, busy over his computer. Though Rodney wasn't especially insightful about other people's moods, he could tell from the hunched shoulders and taught neck that something wasn't quite right. He coughed loudly, hoping to attract the Czech's attention, but to no avail, so instead he did what he liked to call a 'Sheppard' and crept up behind him, peering over his shoulder. What he saw put aside all attempt at stealth. The readings on the screen in front of him made worrying viewing and he roughly pushed Zelenka aside to have a better look.

'What the hell is this?' he growled, 'Why didn't you call me earlier about this?'

Zelenka looked both irritated and slightly sheepish. 'I wanted to be sure before I did. It is very worrying, is it not?'

Rodney fell into silence, checking through the files and running every analysis he could think of. 'Okay, we need to call Woolsey at once and we need to get Sheppard back from the mainland. This is not good.' At that, he grabbed his tablet, clicking his radio as he did. 'Woolsey? We have an emergency. I'll be in the control room.'

There was no doubt about it but he didn't know why it was happening. The systems were overloading and if he couldn't find a way to reverse it, there would be a cataclysmic explosion. The nagging that had been pecking on his shoulder for the last couple of days like some agitated parakeet now began to make some kind of sense. Something or someone had caused a range of smaller systems to malfunction, but like a snowball the effect had built exponentially to a crisis before they even knew it was happening. And, honestly, despite the fact that all eyes and hopes were now on him to magically save the day, yet again, he had no idea how to stop it.

Woolsey was stalking anxiously behind him as Ronon and Teyla arrived. 'What is it?' queried the big Satedan.

The look on Rodney's face told Ronon all he needed to know. They were in big trouble.

Suddenly, Rodney's face cleared in one of those oh-so-familiar moments, the ones that usually came before he saved the day, and he pressed the button on the com. 'Sheppard. Colonel Sheppard, come in please? Sheppard! Whatever you're doing, and quite frankly I don't want to know, put it down and come to the damn radio straight away. Sheppard! John!'

A tired and irritated voice responded. 'Yes, McKay. I'm here. You don't have to shout, but this had better be good or I'll be thinking up some new and painful revenge.'

'We have an emergency here. We need you back straight away. I think I have a solution, but we need you and possibly Cat here to help. I don't know how much time we have. You have to leave now.'

He heard John's voice turn from irritation to businesslike concern. 'What is it, McKay. What's happening?'

'It's the city, John. To not put too fine a word on it, it's in imminent danger of blowing up. I don't know what's the cause yet, but I think we can.....' The levels began to spike in his monitor, orange turning to red. 'John, it might be too late, I........................'

***

Cat heard rather than saw the body stampeding towards them. John attempted to cover her protectively with his body and she could feel the rapid beat of his heart as he braced himself for whatever impact was about to come. 'Stay still, sweetheart,' he managed to whisper in her ear. 'I love you.' Then the ground shook beneath them and she could smell the pungent odour of a large animal, a smell that reminded her powerfully of visits to the zoo as a child. 'I love you back,' she said, then buried her head in his shoulder, briefly able to wonder at the irony of this, that after all they'd been through, they were likely to be stampeded to death by some giant alien rhinoceros. Just at the moment when she was certain the animal was upon them there was a loud crack, a loud scream and a thunderous thud and, as the dust settled, she was able to see about ten metres away from them the prone body of the creature, panting with steamy breaths that were becoming ever more erratic. Then it stilled, lifeless.

There was a long moment of silence as they tried to take in what happened. Then John said, 'What the hell?'

_TBC_

_Well, there it is folks. First chapter of a new adventure for John and Cat. Do hope you like it enough to carry on reading. Please R & R – you know how much I appreciate it._


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thanks to all my lovely reviewers as always. I'm glad you liked the double cliffie. Here goes then! And bear with me – it's becoming complicated.**_

He hadn't really been sure how to do what he needed to next, all his energy and guile having been expended on the attainment of this one goal: to reach the city and become as 'invisible' as possible. And, it had worked. His little ruse, the idea which had come like an arrow from the gods from a rather drunken group of Genii, had worked to perfection and he thanked said gods for his connections within the fleet which allowed the seemingly impossible to happen. According to The Genii, there had been another occasion when one of their own had infiltrated the city and they were more than happy to 'help out' given his reasons for the subterfuge and the disdain that most of them still held for a certain Colonel John Sheppard. It would appear that, despite all so-called truces and agreements, personal animosity could not be overcome and the killing of an almost iconic General, as well as the murder of over fifty Genii soldiers, would not soon be forgotten. So, they had helped him to this point, even 'taking out' the man he replaced, an engineer who had come with impeccable credentials.

For the first few days it had been odd being called by a different name and it had taken a while to become accustomed to it. Thankfully, it was easy to explain away his non-recognition of the strange name by nervousness at a new promotion or being in a new galaxy and the man he'd replaced was not high enough in rank for anyone to really take any notice of or care about in any case. So he blended in, quietly doing his job and surreptitiously sabotaging minor systems in the city. Although he had been just a bar manager on the planet, before then he'd had the kind of training that many Travellers went through: mending, repairing and maintaining an aging ship's engines. And with the information from The Genii, he'd been able to plot carefully where and how to do the most damage without, he hoped, being noticed. And this had been made all the easier by an amazing discovery. He had heard that some from The Galaxy might be descended from The Ancestors themselves, carrying the blood line through the generations, and that these people could control Ancient technology but never in his wildest dreams had he believed that he could be one of them, until that first night when the lights in his room came on with a mere thought and he heard, no felt, the city breathing beneath his feet.

He'd caught sight of her a few times and his resolve nearly disappeared. Even now he loved her, but that passion was often tinged with such hatred and jealousy that he felt it almost physically overcome him. Not long after her 'rescue' from him, he'd decided to set out to find her and woo her back again, fighting against his fear of the outside world, and, despite what he knew now, that she was happily married to the city's military commander, he was still determined to win her love. And, if she wouldn't come with him willingly, he would just have to make her, so that she could learn to see where she really did belong. What bothered him most was how to ensure that she was away from the destruction that he knew would certainly happen.

And then, he heard through the Atlantis rumour mill that they were heading off for a 'second honeymoon' on the mainland, a much talked about event among some of the lower echelons in the city who satisfied their longing for all things 'celebrity' by giving the couple a status which they neither wanted nor warranted. This was his chance to place the final links in the chain and, on a sunny summer's day, he finalised the last pieces of his sabotage and stowed away on the jumper, hidden in one of the escape pods, praying that there wouldn't be any last minute security checks. It had been painful listening to the couple laughing and whispering to each other, and even more so when it took them several hours to exit the ship, unable to keep their hands from each other at the joy of being alone. But eventually they left, leaving the hatch open while they unpacked their camping equipment, and he was able to make his escape.

He hid out and bided his time. His chance would come to get her back again and, this time, he wouldn't fail. He'd tried hard not to watch or listen too closely to the interactions between the couple, but what he did hear had only served to stiffen his resolve. She was his, damn it, and he should be lying next to her, touching her, kissing her, making love to her. She would see that he was the better man, the only one for her. It was clear to him that she'd been drawn in by the superficial good looks and easy manner of the other man, but he knew he could make her much happier. And, when he saw the flurry of activity and heard the anxious note in their voices, he knew that something had happened back in Atlantis and he hoped it was everything he'd planned. Not that he really cared how little or how much damage he'd done: that wasn't his affair any more: it had simply been a means to an end. At first, when he'd heard that they would be off world together he'd panicked that his plan wouldn't work, but panic had quickly turned to opportunity as he saw how he could use the situation to achieve his goal. Others could take advantage of the city's temporary weakness and at this moment probably were.

***

The initial explosion had rocked the control room with such force that it blew out much of the glass from the windows, the floor now a jigsaw of yellow and green fragments which would have been beautiful had some not also caused some more serious injuries. Rodney had half flung and half thrown himself onto the ground, arms wrapped around the back of his head and, as he gingerly moved, he could feel blood beginning to seep from wounds to his hands. The scene that greeted him was horribly familiar, reminding him of another time and another explosion when an old friend had been lost. Bodies were scattered around the space, some now attempting to move, and muted groaning seemed to fill the air, mixing with the settling dust. To his left he could see the prone form of Richard Woolsey, frighteningly still with one arm bent horribly out of shape. To his right, the large figure of Ronon was already helping up Teyla and, to Rodney's relief they both looked alright apart from a few superficial cuts and bruises. Mind you, what was okay to them would probably mean several days in hospital for the average mortal.

He reached up to his ear and gratefully felt the familiar shape of his ear piece, clicking it twice. 'Major Lorne? Are you there? Doctor Keller?' Then with a sudden panic: 'Katie? Can you hear me? Are you alright?' Static greeted him. 'Damn it, communications must be down.' He turned to the nearest computer and punched a few buttons, frowning at the readings on the screen in front of him and muttering to himself.

A shadow loomed over his left shoulder. 'McKay? What just happened?' resounded Ronon's familiar booming voice.

Rodney took a breath and swallowed the temptation to throw back a sarcastic comment: this wasn't the time. 'I don't know. We've been noticing glitches in several minor systems for several days now, but nothing major.' As ever, Dr Rodney Mckay couldn't quite bring himself to mention that it was Zelenka who'd uncovered the technical problems. 'It seems like someone has been indulging in some very clever sabotage, causing a major overload of the systems right under our noses. But as for why...' Rodney stopped in mid-sentence.

'What? McKay?' warned Ronon. 'What is it?'

Rodney expected the usual announcement from Chuck but the poor man was still struggling to consciousness.

'The gate's activating. Someone's dialling in, there's no IDC and there's nothing I can do to block it. Shields are down. Ronon?' The request was enough. Ronon and Teyla ran down the gate room stairs and took position just as the familiar blue blast of watery light flashed from the gate.

***

'What the hell?' exclaimed John. As the dust settled, she could see how close they were to being mashed by the creature. 'Are you alright?'

Cat nodded, shaken by the experience but no more and watched as he raised himself onto his haunches, replaced his aviators and cocked his gun, poised and ready to deal with any threat to her. This was how he worked best, she knew: protecting people he cared for. 'Stay here,' he said quietly, 'I'll check it out. There may be others about and I'd like to know what poleaxed it so dramatically.' Cautiously, he crept over to the stricken animal, alert to all possible dangers around them and rather tentatively put a hand against its flank. 'Well, it's dead then,' he dead-panned, 'and it didn't fall down of its own accord.' He stood up and showed her a bloodied hand. 'Someone shot it. We're not alone.'

He scanned the horizon, now glimmering with the early dawn light, distant shapes becoming clearer as the suns rose. To his left was the expanse they'd walked across the day before, hard ground and low scrubland as far as the eye could see. The little bit of so-called safety they had found was in fact the beginning of what appeared to be a much more densely overgrown area and he could see the edge of some kind of forest in the distance. If he remembered the map of the planet correctly, then this woodland went on for some miles and worryingly they knew very little about what lived in its darkness, the scanners unable to penetrate into the murky green depths. Not for the first time, he wished that he'd been content with landing the jumper on the nearer coastline to Atlantis, though the surf was flat there and he had enjoyed a rare sense of freedom cutting through the waves. More worryingly though was the thought that there was someone else out there, even if that someone had just saved their asses. In his experience, anyone who wasn't prepared to introduce themselves was either painfully shy or just plain dangerous and he would err towards the latter for the moment. Another worry was Cat: he knew that she struggled to walk long distances these days, even though she would never admit it. Mostly, her injuries at the hands of the renegade Asgard didn't affect her, but this was different. She was already carrying too much weight in her back-pack, he knew, and had taken as much as he possibly could from her.

Well, there wasn't an option other than to go on. Fear pecked at the back of his brain: for his daughter, for his friends, for his home. There had been other times when Atlantis had been in danger but he'd always managed to be there, to be useful and, above all, John Sheppard hated to feel as though he couldn't 'do' anything. He turned back towards Cat and smiled. As ever, she was the practical one, quietly packing away the few things they'd unpacked the night before, tidying the area where they'd 'slept', though he honestly hadn't managed more than a few caught moments of rest, and watching her activity gave him back his resolve. With a sigh, he walked towards her, placing a hand on her bent back. 'It's time we moved on. We should stop for something to eat and drink when we have a little more shelter: we don't want to be out in the sun for too long.'

Cat pulled the zip closed on her back-pack and stood up to face her husband. She couldn't see the expression behind the sunglasses but sensed his tension and concern. Seeking to reassure him yet again, she said, 'Well, I'm ready. Shall we go?' and smiled confidently at him. He didn't move for a moment and seemed uncertain what to do next and then he drew her to him in a tight embrace. No words were spoken as he held her, but she could feel a quivering in his neck muscles as she pressed her head into his shoulders. She felt his fears, his worries, his buried panic and shared them. Neither spoke of how they felt. Both knew that they had no option but to go on, to try to reach the city. As she raised her head, she thought she saw a movement in the bushes behind him, a glimmer of something bright, but then it was gone. Oh well, she thought, not the time to worry him about it.

***

He hadn't intended to shoot the creature. There it was, hurtling towards his nemesis and he could see the fruits of all his efforts right there at that moment. But then, the beast had veered to one side and he saw the shape of his beloved, being protected by her husband, and he knew that they would both be killed in the next few seconds. So, he'd stood up from his hiding place and fired a single shot into the animal's body, felling it instantly. He watched the tender moment as the two hugged each other for comfort and bit his bottom lip. 'Next time,' he muttered under his breath, 'you won't be so lucky.'

***

On the edges of the forest, the light only just managing to reach the ground in tiny patches through the canopy, John and Cat paused for breath. They hadn't spoken as they crossed the scrubland which verged the edge of the wood and there really didn't seem anything to say now, both mentally and physically fatigued. They sat uncomfortably on a rock, taking a few meagre sips of water and sharing a power bar. From behind, a strange cacophony of birds and other creatures crept towards them from verdant depths, both a warning and an invitation at the same time.

Cat glanced across at John. He was sitting slouched on a rock next to her, long legs stretched out in mock relaxation, but a deep frown etching his handsome face. The companionable silence had shifted into something more uncomfortable, becoming a barrier that was difficult to break down, neither able to make small talk or allow themselves to speak about their deepest fears and there didn't seem to be anything in between. There had been moments like this between them at other times, but this was the most awkward it had ever been. Despite all the good things about her husband, his bravery, his kindness, his loyalty, the depth of his passion, he could also cut himself off completely from those around him, a habit born of self-protection, and was capable of a taciturnity which could irritate to the extreme. She looked across at him again. Yes, he was pouting too, concentrating on something else other than the worry that she knew he must be feeling. The irony was that, despite her growing irritation and impatience with the silence, he also looked at his most attractive when slightly rugged and scruffy as he was now and she had to squash other feelings which were not appropriate to the moment, though the thought of sex in the dark undergrowth with him did something to ease her growing tension and she drifted back into somewhat more pleasant thoughts.

Her reverie was broken by John standing abruptly to attention next to her, his keen instinct for danger (what he'd often call his 'spidey' sense) alerted by something she'd clearly missed.

'What...' she tried to ask, but was instantly cut off by a raised hand. Without speaking, he pointed into a clump of bushes about fifty metres away and put his finger to his lips. Cat peered towards the undergrowth, nothing visible to the naked eye. With a flick of his wrist, he pointed to her back-pack and to her back and she nodded in agreement, quickly returning the heavy weight to her shoulders then he leant down and swung his own into place over one shoulder, gun still pointing towards the bushes. Grabbing her arm, he steered her backwards towards the trees and into the darkness, away from whatever trouble was out there waiting for them, but towards the dangers of the forest.

***

The figures that stepped out of the gate and into the control room were disturbingly familiar, their green uniforms and peaked hats clearly denoting them as Genii. Ronon and Teyla managed to fell the first few who came through, but it was much like Canute trying to hold back the tide and within seconds they were overrun, flattened to the floor, arms tied behind them roughly. Rodney had watched with horror the proceedings before making a very deliberate decision, one that he hoped wouldn't be seen as cowardice later; using Cat's old route out of the upper balcony, he had fallen to the ground and crawled away, memories of Sheppard's bravery against the last Genii who had attempted to take Atlantis still fresh in his memory. The Rodney McKay of a few years ago would never have been so courageous, but he had learnt a few things in the years he'd been in the city and in any case he now had a family, apart of course from his adopted one, to defend.

Behind him he could hear sounds of gun fire and fighting and he tried not to imagine what was happening or think too hard about the injured already up there, desperately in need of medical care. Woolsey was out of it completely and without radio contact he had no way of finding Lorne. So, in the absence of both he now had to assume some kind of command. The first thing he needed to do was to find Katie and the girls and get them to safety.

As he ran, he became aware of the chaos in the city's corridors. Every few metres he came across signs of smaller explosions, dust and debris scattering the floor, sometimes in larger chunks which he had to traverse and sometimes in nasty sharp shards which would have cut through his boots if he'd stood on them. There were injured at every corner, some worse than others and he wondered if he should find Jennifer Keller first. No, he needed to know that his girls were alright.

As he rounded the corner to his quarters, he was horrified to see the door hanging open, almost off its hinges. From inside, he could hear the sound of a child crying and he ran towards it with trepidation. Their main room was a mess of upturned furniture, dust filling the air. In the corner, he could see a little huddle of figures, covered by what looked like a bed sheet.

'Katie? Is that you? Are you alright? Are the girls alright?'

The huddle shifted into three figures, the two smaller ones huddling into their mother. 'We're alright, Rodney, just a little shaken up,' she replied as he took them in his arms with a relieved and heart -felt hug. 'What...what happened, Rodney?'

'It's so not good. Some of Sheppard's 'big bads' have taken the control room. It's the damn Genii again.' Releasing her from his arms, he continued, 'and I have to go now. There are things I must do, but we need to get you and the girls to safety. There's a little room that Cat found several years ago. You need the gene to open the door from the outside, so it'll be safe from The Genii and I put in some provisions some time ago so if it takes a while you'll be alright. I'll try to get the radios back on line as soon as possible, so take this,' he said, handing her an ear piece. He leant over and gave her a kiss. 'And, if you don't hear from me within 24 hours then you'll need to decide whether to come out or not. I'm going to try to find Lorne and some 'proper soldiers' then see if Zelenka's alright. I think I know how to solve the technical problems but need Radek's help and I can't do the fighting all by myself.'

Once he'd taken his wife and daughters to the sanctuary of the secret room, he headed off for the labs. Already, the sound of gunfire was getting closer, The Genii clearly intent upon not repeating past mistakes where complacency and over confidence led to their downfall. He breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of an intact door on the lab and an even bigger sigh when he waved his hand over the door lock with little hope of success and the door whooshed open.

'Well, it is about time you got here, Rodney, 'said Zelenka in his strongest Czech accent.

***

The forest was dark and dismal, the sound of water dripping from the highest branches and landing still way above his head. He shivered, unprepared for the cold and damp that pervaded here. Ahead he could hear rather than see his prey. Two dark shadows creeping through the undergrowth, battling through the wet ground and the creepers that appeared to weave around legs with octopus -like ease. He had a plan and he was determined to carry it out. This time he wouldn't fail. When, ahead of him, he saw one of the figures stumble, just enough to halt their progress, he took his chance and aimed his weapon. With one shot he hit the other figure, felling it like a tree as it collapsed stiffly into the ground.

TBC

_Please R & R if you want to know what happens next! I need encouragement to continue weaving this story._


	3. Chapter 3

_**So sorry for the delay on this...RL gets in the way, but back to it again. I'd almost forgotten what I'd written! LOL! Thanks to all my lovely reviewers, as ever.**_

Well, this was not what she expected to be doing today: she'd spent years avoiding this kind of trouble and now it looked as though she was stuck looking after the most precocious child she'd ever met. She'd distantly heard the first explosions and knew from the shivering vibrations running through the city that something was horribly wrong, especially when she couldn't raise anyone on her radio, and then it was confirmed when Teyla ran in, holding the little Sheppard girl who was struggling in her arms like a wild cat, with Torren running along obediently behind.

'Janet, please will you take Mona and Torren. Something bad has happened, but I do not know what. I must find out and I cannot take them with me. Please, keep them safe. ' And with that, Teyla had run from the Archives room, leaving Doctor Janet Donaldson, Chief Archivist and confirmed- and -delighted –to- be- spinster, with two very energetic children on her hands.

Within minutes of Teyla leaving, a much louder and closer explosion rocked the room, causing a bookshelf across the way to shed its load and the ceramic artefact on her desk to fall to the floor and shatter. Torren ran to her and buried his head in, what would have been if she had been wearing one, her skirt and Mona stopped her wriggling, squeezing Janet's neck so tightly that she struggled to breathe. It was at this moment that she realised the importance of the charge given to her and made a determined decision. There was a locked room where many of the more precious artefacts were kept and only the city's archivist had the combination for. Quickly grabbing her bottle of water and the sandwich waiting for lunch from her desk, she grasped Torren by the hand and ran towards their sanctuary as quickly as she could, firmly closing the door behind them, just in time: she heard shouting along the corridor as the door shut and the distant sounds of gunshots. No, she would not let Teyla or her young charges down.

***

Behind the door they could hear the sounds of battle, gunshots and shouts echoing against the locked entrance. He might not be John Sheppard, creeping around the corridors and attacking guerrilla style, but he could do what he did best. Just before the first explosions, he'd worked out a possible way to prevent them and now he was working on how to use the same technique to disrupt and overcome their current technical problems and to give Lorne and his men the best possible chance of victory. As ever, Zelenka and he worked together, neither willing to let on how much they respected the other's abilities. In a crisis the two had an uncanny ability to finish each other's sentences, working as one. For Radek Zelenka it was almost poetic, though Rodney couldn't see it as such and probably didn't even know he was doing it.

'I think I have it Rodney,' drawled the smaller man in an accent that became stronger the more stressed he became. 'A pattern: a definite pattern.' He pointed at the screen.

'Yes, I see it thank you,' snarked back Rodney, typically unwilling to let Radek have the kudos of achieving something first. 'This is very interesting. Someone knew exactly where to hit us and how and this someone has to have the Ancient gene too. Do you see? The early sabotage is just secondary systems, but he or she was braver later on and some of these can only be activated by the gene.' Here he paused and pressed a few more buttons, 'Wait a minute! I think if I do this and transfer this over to...yes!' As he shouted, several moribund computer terminals came to life in the room. 'Ha, now we have it. Let the games begin!'

***

As Richard Woolsey began to stir he was aware of excruciating pain in his head and sickening nausea that pecked away at his stomach, making him want to vomit even with the movement of opening his eyes. A small groan left his lips involuntarily, which was unfortunate because it drew the attention of the soldier nearest to him, who promptly kicked him again. He just about had time to mouth 'what the...' before he drifted back into pained darkness again.

Ronon watched the little scene with disgust and a growing anger. Tied up as he was, arms behind his back and flat on the floor, he had to strain to see what was going on and that was only serving to feed his rage more. Teyla was very still next to him, he could see Chuck still prone on the floor and there were a couple of marines in the far corner that looked as though they hadn't made it. Whether they'd been killed in the blast or shot by The Genii, he had no way of knowing from here. For now, all he could do was concentrate on loosening the bounds around his wrists and try not to draw attention to himself.

Big boots walked past his face, inches away. The Genii might be here in force, but they were no cleverer than usual, pondered Ronon. They'd clearly been told to 'watch' him but they had no idea what they were dealing with. His other hand was almost free when he nearly gave himself away: his radio chirruped in his ear, followed by the familiar tones of Rodney McKay.

'Ronon, Teyla, Lorne, can you hear me? If you can, I've isolated the com to your frequencies. Of course, if you've been captured then there's every chance that someone else is listening in right now. Oh crap, I hadn't thought of that. So, just to let you know we're, no I'm, working on our 'little problem'. Um...over and out or whatever.'

Ronon grimaced at the other man's stupidity. For an intelligent man Rodney had such a total lack of tactical acuteness that it never ceased to amaze, or more frankly, irritate him. Well, at least he knew that Atlantis' favourite miracle-worker was somewhere in the city trying to help and that was a comfort. Right now, he had to concentrate upon how to get out of this little situation. A surreptitious glance up showed him at least three guards in direct sight; with his knowledge of Genii thinking they were probably too arrogant to assume they needed more to guard a few prisoners. As carefully and quietly as he could, he continued to loosen the bounds around his hands and felt them begin to slacken further even as they began to cut into his skin. Oh well. A little blood would only serve to lubricate his wrists and speed up their release. Gritting his teeth he continued to work until his right hand slipped from its confinement and he felt the ropes fall away. Okay, now that was the easy part. Now, all he needed to do was bide his time.

***

She heard the crack of a gun and watched with horror as John crumpled to the ground. 'John!' she screamed and fell down next to him.

'Oh, my God!'

He lay prone, a ghastly whiteness creeping into his cheeks, eyes shut. She allowed herself a quick glance towards the direction of the shot but there was no sign of the unknown attacker, then leant forward and listened to his chest. Yes, heart still beating. And, no sign of any blood? But she knew that gunshot wounds often showed very little sign of entry. With dread, she gently pulled him onto his side, pulled the backpack from this left shoulder and felt cautiously under his vest. Thank God! No telltale wetness or sickening warmth. Was that a sound? In the bushes? She could swear that she saw a movement from the corner of her eye, but when she tried to focus on the point all was still.

From beneath her she heard a groan as John's consciousness began to re-awaken and then, as if shaken from a trance, his eyes flew open and he sat up so suddenly that he sent her flying backwards.

'Wha.....!' he exclaimed, before coughing painfully, flinging off his pack from his other shoulder and falling backwards, clutching his chest. 'Crap!'

Again, she was reduced to stupid and obvious statements, numbed from fear for him and his sudden return to alertness. 'You were shot. You collapsed to the ground. I thought...thought you were dead...' And, at this, all attempt to keep calm deserted her and she started to sob.

Cat's tears appeared to bring him to his senses and he muttered, slightly more coherently now, 'my vest...bullet proof...just winded, I think.' Then, with an attempt to lighten the tone: 'Yep! Everything's still there and in working order, I think. Could have damaged a couple of ribs though. You might have to be a bit gentle with me for a few weeks.' And, at this, he smirked and winked naughtily at her. She wasn't fooled. The stiffness that he couldn't disguise as he stood up told her everything she needed to know, and at least he hadn't tried to appease her with an 'I'm fine' this time. And, she also had to resist the temptation to hit him for causing her so much worry.

'Right!' he said, with an expellation of air, 'So, it would seem that our would-be saviour from big dangerous beasts also doesn't like me very much. It might be a good idea to get out of the open and head into the forest.' He stood still, grabbed his P90 and scanned the horizon as he spoke, alert to any further danger. 'Come on, let's go. Still a small walk in the park before we reach the coastline and it's not time for our picnic yet.' Keeping an eye on his surroundings, John painfully leant down and lifted the heavy pack onto his back, grimacing as he did. With one last glance towards the lighter fringes of the forest, he beckoned to her to take the path ahead, leaving the heat and glare of the suns behind them. With a sigh, she tried to give him a brave smile and, picking up her own pack which was now feeling as though she were carrying lead, she headed into the unknown darkness.

Behind the couple another figure followed, unable to believe what he'd just witnessed and beginning to think that these Atlantians had as many lives as his pet nanthu.

***

With relief, Ronon heard Teyla groan next to him: the first sign that she was coming round. In the last hour, the three Genii guards had routinely patrolled the gate room, always taking the same route, and he was almost ready to make his move. He could still hear in the distance the sounds of battle and he knew that Lorne and his men would be doing their best to fight of the incursion, as much as he knew that he had to be out there helping. The nearest guard glanced towards them, a smug smile on his face that Ronon needed to wipe off sooner rather than later. He waited for one more circuit and for the point where the three habitually had a conversation, arrogantly convinced that their prisoners were tightly secured, and then he deftly slipped his hands from the bindings, in one elegant move retrieving the long throwing knife that he kept in his sleeve, and threw it so accurately that it felled the smug bastard immediately. Taken by surprise, the other two soldiers were slow to react and before they knew it he was on them, breaking the neck of the one nearest and then punching the other so hard that he collapsed to the ground immediately. Not waiting to see who might come to their aid he ran back to Teyla and cut through the ropes, helping her to her feet. She was a little groggy but nodded to him in response to his unspoken query. Up on the balcony he could just see the unconscious form of Richard Woolsey and breathed out a 'sorry, back later,' before he and Teyla ran from the room and down the nearest corridor, towards the fighting.

Janet was having trouble. Mona was not happy. And when Mona wasn't happy, everyone around her certainly knew it. It was just as well that only she had the code for the door lock otherwise she was convinced that the little monster would have been out of here like some reincarnation of Boadicea, off to fight the invading Romans. Janet's arms were already a patchwork of bruises where she had tried to keep the child still and quiet. Finally, she'd managed to clasp her hand around Mona's mouth for long enough to communicate the need to be quiet. For a while, she'd heard the sounds of destruction outside the door and she winced at the thought of what irreplaceable artefacts were being destroyed by The Genii soldiers, but now it was quiet. Whether that meant the men had moved on she couldn't be sure and she wasn't about to test it out any time soon, not with Torren and Mona under her care. He was sitting silently, calmly looking inwards, meditating as his mother had taught him. It was amazing how two children could be so very different: Torren so serene and gentle; Mona fiery and intelligent. Janet allowed herself to muse on an interesting future, one where the two were married. Yes, they would balance each other perfectly and, my, wouldn't they produce beautiful children of their own. As she daydreamed, she felt a small weight on her arm and looked down to see the little girl fast asleep. She met Torren's eyes and they smiled a knowing smile of relief to each other and she let herself drift into a fretful doze of her own.

Rodney's radio crackled in his ear. 'McKay? Ronon here. We're okay and we are going to help Lorne. What's happening with you?'

'Oh, thank God!' Rodney exclaimed, before collecting himself. 'We have limited control over some of the systems now but really I need someone with a stronger strain of the gene to fully implement the plan. If I can drill down deeper into some of the systems, I should be able to create some interesting problems for our interlopers. I have control of one of the generators and several of the systems that carry power to parts of the city and I'm pretty sure I can set up some power surges that would fry anyone in their path. We'd have to make sure that our people know it's coming and are out of the way. The result is rather like being in the worst indoor lightening storm you can imagine. I've patched in some Ancient technology to help us and that's where I need the gene. It kinda works with me, but as always I could do with Sheppard, or, well someone else who has the gene equally as strongly. Really, I need, well I hate to say it and Sheppard wouldn't be happy, but I need Mona here.' Internally, the mention of John Sheppard reminded him of the man's absence. He hoped, beyond hope, that John was on his way back to the city; ready once again to avenge himself on the swarm of Genii that had invaded them yet again. He suspected that the power outage they'd suffered briefly after the explosion could well have had a significant impact upon any ancient technology in the near vicinity, including the jumper, and just prayed that it had been far enough away not to be affected, otherwise the colonel and his wife would have a hell of a walk home and, worse, they might not make it at all. The team just didn't work right without their commander and he needed to abrogate some of that responsibility if he were to do his job properly here. And, yes, he wasn't ashamed to admit, at least to himself, that he needed his friend's tactical acuteness and straight thinking. So many times, together, they'd saved the city or each other by bouncing ideas off each other; it had become part of the way Rodney McKay worked and he was struggling without it, just as he knew that Ronon would also have difficulty, needing John's measured logic to balance his impetuosity.

There was a pause while the friends took on board the magnitude of what they were about to do, before Teyla said steadily, 'then, we had better find a way to bring Mona to you, had we not? John and Cat will understand. We will keep her safe, I promise.'

'Okay, but be quick. Someone also needs to warn our people about our plans too.'

'On it.' Rodney could almost see Ronon's determination and smiled at the familiarity of the curt response, one which gave him so much comfort even after all these years.

And at that, Ronon and Teyla separated, their tasks taking them to opposite ends of the city.

***

The forest darkened overhead as they headed deeper into it. Every now and then, Cat heard John suppress a gasp as however many cracked ribs complained, but apart from that they hadn't said a word to each other since. In the distance, and sometimes much closer, the wildlife announced itself eerily, and she really didn't want to imagine what form was making the growling sound that was quite close right now. Occasionally, she thought she'd heard a sound behind her and she'd turned each time, once thinking she'd seen a shadow in the bushes and she knew for sure that John was worried too. There was something about the set of his neck and shoulders, which she was now staring at because he was determined to take the lead, which told her of his alertness and tension. Mind you, it was debateable which was the safest, heading up or taking the rear. He would have done both if he could, she knew that, and she was absolutely determined to play her part and take some of the pressure from him.

He stopped and raised his hand and then turned and walked back to her. 'We'll rest here for a bit,' he whispered, before painfully taking off his back pack, an involuntary wince coming from his lips as he did. The pain in his hazel eyes made her want to hold him tightly in her arms and hug him better but she knew better than to try. Giving in to that would be too much of an admission of hurt and he might not be able to continue if he started down that road. Instead, she allowed herself a worried look and attempted a bright smile which she knew to look as false as it felt, sitting down next to him and gently placing her head in his shoulder. If she could give him some comfort under the guise of needing some herself, then she'd play that game.

They sat, motionless in that strange wonder-world, curtains of creepers above them being gently swayed by some breath of a breeze that had managed to penetrate through the dark canopy. Down here, it was unbearably humid and she was very grateful for the few sips of water she was allowed to drink from their ever diminishing supply. As they sat, a small furry creature, large eyes like headlights designed to see into the darkest night, crept into the clearing and peered myopically in their direction, so unused to man that it didn't think to be frightened. It was almost charming in a comical kind of way, its lopsided face and huge ears a making it a candidate for the ugliest forest creature competition and if such existed it would almost certainly win. For a nanosecond man and creature observed each other, it sniffing the air for a clue to what these strange new beings in its domain were, both sides frozen as if in awe.

Then, as suddenly as it had arrived, something made it start and it glanced behind into the undergrowth before running off in the opposite direction. John turned to her and smiled, for the first time in several hours it reached his eyes, and he leant forward to kiss her. She could see nothing but his mouth, desperate to drink the love and passion that she knew she would find there. Just as their lips touched, Cat spotted a movement in the bushes but before she could shout a warning there was a familiar whistling sound that at first she thought had passed over head, until John slumped onto her shoulder, and she felt the trickle of warm blood, his blood, down the side of her face, then she was forced backwards by his dead weight onto her back.

As in slow motion, she saw their attacker emerge from his hiding place, ready now to reveal himself. The thinning blonde hair and sickly countenance were shockingly familiar and she could hardly believe what she was seeing.

'Dane!' Something inside her exploded, all reason submerged in the desperate rage that welled from within. Somehow she extricated herself from John's prone form and she was on him before he was able to defend himself. 'You bastard,' was her battle-cry as she launched herself at him. She caught the look of fear in his eyes as she hit him, then in a flurry of punches she knocked him to the ground before she put both hands around his throat, intent on squeezing the last drop of life from his body. It was as though she was watching herself from one of the branches high above and she would have killed him, no doubt about it, had she not heard the quietest moan from her husband. The watcher above witnessed the almost comical sight of the woman, poised between murderous intent and the need to run to her husband, before she raised him up and banged his head down onto the ground as hard as she could, knocking him unconscious, or at least semi-conscious.

Cat ran over to John, putting her hand in front of her mouth at the shock of what she saw and the need to hold back the nausea that she was feeling. Blood covered the right side of his face and had seeped wetly into his dark hair, but beneath it he had such a sickly pallor that she couldn't believe he was alive. With a shaking hand, she felt for the pulse that was only just there and breathed a temporary sigh of relief, then she reached inside his BDU's to find the battle bandage that she knew was there. With no time to delay and not enough water to clean the wound or see how bad the damage was, all she could do was use her rather limited medical knowledge and bandage his poor wounded head, praying that it wasn't as bad as it looked and hoping beyond hope that it really was true that head injuries bled more than they deserved.

It was only then that she realised that she had no idea how she was going to get him to safety. She had no idea which direction to go. She had no idea how she could carry him. She had no idea how far it was to the little boat that John hoped would be there.

With a deep sigh, determined to hold back the tide of tears that was threatening to flow, she looked in the direction of the other man, still prone on the ground. 'Well, I hope you're not dead,' she said, 'because you are going to help me.'

_**As ever, please R & R! I mean, you do want to find out what happens next, don't you??**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**As always, thanks to my reviewers. I am always grateful for those who comment: it encourages me to continue.**_

The way to the Archives room was littered with debris and Teyla more than once skittered on used gun cartridges. Thoughts of more than taking Mona to Rodney's lab threatened to derail her calmness. In the distance she could hear the continuing battle for the city, but here The Genii seemed to have decided to move on, happy to have caused as much destruction as possible. What she saw when she reached her destination turned her heart cold: precious books and irreplaceable artefacts were torn or shattered and some soldier had decided to take target practice at Janet's desk. And of Janet and her young charges there was no sign. Teyla didn't know whether to laugh with relief or let the awful fear for her son that had been pecking away at her gut for several hours finally take her over. She was about to turn away and search elsewhere when she heard heavy feet running down the corridor towards her, and by the sound of it there was more than one pair approaching. Stuck between the proverbial rock and the hard place, she had to quickly decide whether to hide or fight and at the last moment she ducked underneath one of the fallen bookshelves, scurrying into the shadows as much as she could.

From her hiding place, she could see at least three pairs of booted feet with the recognisable steel toe-caps worn by all The Genii army. Not given to great tactical awareness nor expecting any resistance, they did however seem to be searching for something and she could see and hear the sounds of bookcases and shelves being upturned in an attempt to find whatever that something was. Several times, they approached where she was, and then walked away again and she would probably have been alright had not one goon decided to upend a cupboard within feet of her. It crashed down so close to her face that she let out an involuntary squeak. Immediately, they were upon her, a large pock-marked face peering under the shelf.

At times like this, there is only one choice in Teyla's world, and she certainly was not about to go down without a fight. She thrust her fingers into the soldier's eyes, causing him to fall backwards with a distinctly coarse Genii curse and. as quickly, she manoeuvred herself out of her hiding place and launched herself at one of the others. Taken off guard, he staggered back, dazed by the powerful blows that emanated from her tiny frame. Again, she would have been alright, easily a match for such ill-trained men, had she not stumbled backwards across a broken urn. At once, they were on her, punching her from all directions, not giving any quarter. She tried to fight back, but blow by blow they were weakening her and she could feel her consciousness fading. In one last burst, she tried to fight them off and shouted as loudly as possible, hoping beyond hope that someone might hear and was just aware of rough hands trying to remove her clothes and bad breath from the pock-marked man as he attempted to take his revenge upon this woman who dared to attack him. With a last hard slap across her face she was subdued, all fight drained from her, aware only of the man and his body attempting to violate her.

From their hiding place, Janet heard Teyla's shout and knew someone was in trouble. Torn between looking after the children and helping whoever it was, she hesitated, unsure of what to do. It was against her better instincts not to help. And then it all went silent.

***

Cat fell back onto the ground in despair, all attempts to revive the unconscious Dane having failed. She needed him now; there was no way she could carry John by herself. Damn her hot-headedness: couldn't she simply have slapped him around a bit?

She turned towards John, still frighteningly motionless on the ground, and crawled over towards him. Blood had pooled in a sticky morass behind his head, despite the makeshift bandage, staining the dark green floor of the forest. He was deadly still; his chest almost imperceptibly moving as his body struggled to survive God knows how serious a head wound. All the fight that had sustained her through her attack on Dane disappeared as though in sympathy with that precious fluid draining from his body and she took him in her arms, laying it on her chest and wept into his damp hair. For several minutes she allowed herself to wallow in deepest despair, unable to see a way out of the desperate situation. She didn't care a whit for Dane, and in other circumstances would surely have left him for dead, but she also had to find a way of carrying John to the coast, taking enough supplies to keep them both alive. And even if Dane did wake up and she could persuade him to help, how they would carry John between them was beyond her.

Just when it seemed that they would all die here together, there being no way she would leave John to whatever ghastly creatures lived in the depths of this forest, he stirred in her arms, no more than the quietest whimper, but enough to tell her that he was slightly closer to consciousness. She lay him gently down on his back and crouched over him, one hand on his chest, desperate to feel the heart beating.

'John? Can you hear me, my love? John! I really, really need you to wake up right now. Please? I love you? Please wake up?'

The uncovered eye stickily opened, confusion and pain blurring its vision.

'You're okay, but you were shot and probably have a bit of a sore head.' She needed to sound positive despite how she was feeling. The eye cleared a little and he weakly raised a hand to touch the bandage on his head, fear flitting across it as he did.

'No, no, it's okay, your other eye is fine, it's just that the wound is not far from it. Don't worry my love; your two eyes are still as beautiful as ever.' This time it was a touch of humour that she saw. 'You need to listen to me, sweetheart. We are in the middle of a dark forest, surrounded by God knows what horrible creatures and we need to get you to safety. The only way we can do this is if you can walk a little; then I can carry some water and food as well. It can't be too far now and we might just be able to get a little help, if we're lucky.' At this, she helped him up a little, resting him on the large bole of a huge tree whose head stretched far above the canopy of creepers, and pointed to the prostrate Traveller.

John's eye widened as he recognised their attacker and he tried to raise himself up further, hand reaching for the gun that was still nestled in its thigh holster. Cat knew her husband all too well. Even in such an enfeebled condition he was quite capable of sudden and violent acts for the sake of self-preservation or for the safety of others. Once she'd asked him how he'd managed to survive so long, through battles and attacks, severe injuries and infections, and he'd simply replied that his desire to live was greater than his desire to die. And it was as simple, or as complex, as that. Gently, she put a hand on his and shook her head. 'That's the help I'm talking about. I can't manage by myself. I need someone else to help me carry you, should we have to, or at least to help you to walk.'

Reluctantly, he shook his head which was a mistake and he fell back into unconsciousness. Once again she checked his pulse and once again breathed a sigh of tense relief. Across from her, Dane began to stir and with renewed energy she grabbed John's gun, ran over to him, and sat down hard on his chest, the gun pointed at his forehead. A very surprised pair of watery blue eyes met hers as he attempted to wriggle free from her grasp and failed. Clearly, he had never had to face a woman's wrath before and anyway, she reflected ironically, she was probably heavier than his slight frame.

'You listen to me. You will help me or I will leave you to die here. Believe me, there are some pretty gruesome creatures in this forest and they would love a bit of human flesh as a change to their usual menu I'm sure. Your only way out of this alive is to work with me and reach the boat that we have stashed on the coast. Any other choice will result in your death and I don't mean quickly. You need to ask yourself whether you are ready to die slowly, being eaten alive and suffering from dehydration.' He stilled for a moment and then nodded his head in silent agreement. 'Now, I'm going to take the gun away and you will not struggle.' Again he nodded.

Cat stood up, gun trained on him, and removed the scarf she was wearing around her neck, sighing at the memory of the gift bought from an Athosian market stall by a besotted fiancé. Oh well, it would be put to good use. 'Put your arms behind your back,' she demanded. The undercurrent of menace must have been enough because he complied and she tied him firmly with the pretty blue and red scarf. 'Now, sit back against that tree.' Dane backed towards a large tree and sat, facing her, a look that was a combination of fear and anger deepening as he did.

As quickly as she could, she unpacked everything they didn't need, although she had a suspicion that they needed everything, keeping basic medical supplies, water and the little food they had left, combining both their supplies in the hopes that it would be enough. Next time they stopped, she'd make sure she collected some water from the dripping rainforest and cursed herself for not thinking about it earlier. Now all she had to do was try to wake up John again. His pallor was impossibly pale, his dark hair framing his still handsome face and accentuating the almost death-mask quality that it had taken on. She didn't want to think about how much blood he'd lost or what infections were now seeping into the wound as quickly as the blood had drained out, let alone what brain damage had been caused.

Holding a bottle of water next to his dried and chapped lips, she moistened them with a few drops and stroked his cheek tenderly. 'John, you need to wake up again. We have to get you out of here and I can't manage unless you can take a little of the weight. For a moment she thought he wouldn't wake, but with enormous effort the eye opened again and he, very carefully this time, nodded his agreement. 'Stay there, my love. I'll be back in a minute. And please, please stay awake?' With one last stroke of his cheek she stood up, taking the pack over to Dane.

'Now, you stand up and stop in front of me. You are my mule. You will carry the supplies while I support John. You are not to go near him unless I ask you to. You will walk ahead of me and know that I will have a gun at your back all the time. Do you understand?'

This time he spoke. 'I understand,' he said simply, as she hung the back pack uncomfortably around his neck, his arms still tied around his back.

Then, as quickly as she could and with one eye on Dane, she went to John. 'We are leaving now, my love. Not long before we have you back safe and sound in Atlantis,' and she placed a shoulder under his right arm. 'Now, if you could just put a little bit of effort into this so that we can stand up, that would be quite helpful right now.' With a grimace, he pushed as hard as he could against her and somehow, with a good deal of staggering and swearing, she managed to get him to his feet, though the weight against her shoulder was almost unbearable.

'Right then,' she said, trying to sound positive and confident, as though they were off on some jaunt with The Guides. 'Off we go. Best feet forward. Atlantis here we come.' And the odd little train staggered further into the forest in the direction that Cat hoped to God was the ocean.

***

Janet made her decision. Turning to Torren she said, 'I must to go out there. Someone needs my help. You have to look after Mona, Torren and keep her in here safely.'

'I understand, Aunty Janet,' he replied, with a look so mature that it brought a lump to her throat. She watched as he went over to Mona and quietly talked to her, reassuring her all the time that the 'game' would be over soon and beginning a real game of eye-spy. Proud of him, she nodded, before turning to open the door, not knowing what she would find outside it.

The soldiers were so intent on their attack upon Teyla, so driven by revengeful lust that they failed to hear the quiet footsteps of the Archivist as she crept up behind them, on hand holding a heavy metal artefact that had survived their onslaught. With a deft blow she hit the man on top of the woman hard on the back of his head, felling him immediately, though the sickening crunch as metal hit bone almost made her sick. She just had time to register that it was Teyla on the ground before she was attacked from behind by a heavy weight, the third man having unfortunately woken from Teyla's knockout punches. In the next few seconds, as she desperately tried to fight him off, she was aware of Teyla launching herself at the other man and once again was amazed by the woman's strength and fight. She managed to dislodge herself from the soldier's grasp and turned towards him, but he hit her hard around the mouth, knocking her backwards.

At that moment, a little voice shouted from the open door of their safe room. 'Mama!' screamed Torren as he ran towards Teyla, straight into the arms of Janet's attacker. She heard Teyla shout 'no', as the man grabbed Torren tightly and began to throttle the struggling child in front of them, a wicked gleam in his eyes. Suddenly, a bundle of fire seemed to erupt from behind as Mona rushed out to defend her friend and mentor, jumping on the man's back and kicking and biting as hard as she good. For a moment, he loosed his grasp on Torren, before his greater strength took over and he took hold again, throwing the little girl backwards to the ground as he did.

All this seemed to happen in slow motion for Janet and she didn't think what she was doing next. As Teyla ran forward to rescue Torren, in a pincer movement Janet attacked from the side, punching him in the kidneys as hard as she could. She was aware that Teyla had Torren and that Mona was lying still on the floor behind and then she felt a searing pain in her side. As she looked down, she felt rather than saw the knife penetrating her flesh and the blood running down her leg. And then Teyla attacked again, this time breaking the man's neck in one movement. With relief, Janet sank to her knees. She felt no pain, which was odd and her legs felt like jelly. In the last moments, and only then did she realise that she was dying, she saw Teyla's tear-stained face above hers and heard her words. 'Thank you, Janet. You saved my son, Mona and me. Your bravery will not be forgotten and will be sung about for years to come by my people.'

Little Mona stirred on the floor and began to cry. Collecting herself and remembering her mission, Teyla made a silent vow to Janet that she would return to her and fulfil that promise before she picked up the semi-conscious girl and gently grabbed Torren's hand, only then noticing that his eyes were fixed on the dead face of the Archivist. 'Come on, Torren. We must leave here. It is not safe. We will come back for Aunty Janet, I promise you. She will have a proper Athosian farewell. For now, we have much to do and little time to achieve it.' With a last glance at Janet, the little group ran from the room, intent on the task in hand and determined to push aside for now the memories of the last hour.

The run back to Rodney's lab was surprisingly uneventful and Teyla breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed and locked behind her. McKay was in mid snark when he noticed Teyla's face. 'What...?' Tears threatened to well, so she simply shook her head and sat down on the nearest chair, little Mona still slightly dazed on her lap but not appearing to have any obvious injuries. With a sad look, the once totally unempathic Rodney Mckay registered her grief and that something awful had happened but also knew that now was not the time to pry further.

'We're almost ready,' he said. 'We've isolated the systems we need and I, well we,' he glanced at Zelenka,' have managed to tie in the Ancient systems. All I need now is Mona's gene to activate them and our people out of the way. I think it's time to contact Ronon and find out what's going on.' Again he glanced at Teyla's obvious distress, then clicked his earpiece.

At the other end of Atlantis, Ronon was fighting battles of his own. He'd managed to team up with Lorne and to his relief, Amelia was there too. At the moment when his radio clicked, they were in the middle of a battle for one of the corridors, a group of about ten Genii holed up at one end and standing firm. It didn't look like the stalemate would be broken any time soon and it irked him that so few could cause him so many problems. Stepping into the shadows, he responded, 'McKay? Tell me you've managed to resolve our little power issue?'

The slightly annoyed tones of the other man whined into his ear. 'Well, yes, because why would I be calling you otherwise? For a friendly chat? A dinner invitation?' Ronon rolled his eyes at Amelia who smiled knowingly back. 'We are ready to go, but all Atlantis personnel have to be out of the corridors before it's a go.'

'Well, we can move away from here. Not as though we're getting anywhere in any case. Can you patch in a link to the others? Let them know?' Despite his exasperation, Ronon trusted Rodney McKay more than anyone to make it work.

'Already on it! How long do you need?'

'How about we say ten minutes?' Ronon checked the watch that Sheppard had given to him for a birthday present last year. Most of the time, he had no purpose for it, but in military situations it was very useful for precise timings.

'Fine. But Ronon? You have to be out of the corridors by then. Any other room in Atlantis will do, even a cupboard, if of course you could fit into a cupboard, that is. Anyway, on it and let's call it ten minutes from now. I'll shout a warning over the radio when we're about to push the button.'

***

The air was stuffy and almost smoky in the darkest parts of the forest. There was a path to follow, but at times it disappeared almost entirely into the straggled roots that frequently threatened to grasp their ankles as if in a deliberate attempt to hold them there. The place was strangely silent; the rasping song of a bird far up in the canopy had died down some hours ago and all she could hear was the distant dripping of water through the web of creepers which hung above them. Dane trundled on ahead; planning goodness knows what revenge on her. What she knew for sure was that she was safe until they found the boat and then she would have to make some serious decisions about him.

John hovered in and out of consciousness but somehow some instinct to survive kept him going. He stumbled frequently and had once mumbled a slurred 'sorry', but apart from that had said nothing, and that was the most worrying thing of all. A fit and healthy John, while sometimes taciturn, would have been talking to her, encouraging her, joking with her and telling her that this was just a walk in the park. More worryingly, she could feel the heat emanating from him, knowing enough to understand the dangers of an infection to be seriously concerned. But there was no turning back; she had to get them to the boat whatever even though she only had the vaguest idea of where it was. John had been unclear himself and she'd only half listened to him, trusting in his abilities absolutely. Her shoulder was beyond hurting and every time John stumbled she had to stop herself from shouting out. Eventually, she had to rest and she shouted ahead to Dane to stop and stand still; from the look of his drooping back he too was ready to drop.

As gently as she could, she lowered John to the ground. His ghastly colour was speckled with a blotchy rose and he was sweating profusely, his normally spiky hair flat to his head with a combination of sweat and matted blood. Somehow she managed to persuade him to take a few drops of precious water, but not enough, she knew, to keep him alive. Time was running out for them all if they didn't find the coast soon. To her left, Dane had collapsed in a tired heap on the ground, the heavy pack still on his back and she needed to take a decision right here about whether she could afford to take any rest herself. If she didn't, she seriously doubted if she could walk any further. There was nothing for it and her eyes closed into a fitful sleep and desperate sleep, her head resting against John's chest as if to check, even in sleep, that he was still breathing.

She woke with a start, the sounds of the forest somehow penetrating her deep and exhausted sleep. For a moment, she wasn't sure where she was, but as always, reality came tumbling in on her. Fearfully, she felt for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief, but only for a moment. His fever was high and he showed no signs at all of stirring when she whispered in his ear. Across from her, Dane was fast asleep, more or less in the position that he'd been when he collapsed.

And now, she had a whole new problem to solve. How was she to get John to safety if he couldn't even stumble as he had before? There was no way she could carry him. There was nothing else for it. Palming John's gun she walked over to Dane and kicked him to wake him up.

'Okay, sleep head,' she said, 'The rules have changed. If you want to live, and I'm sure you do, you need to help me with John. He can't walk anymore and we'll have to carry him. I will untie you and you and I will take him together. Your options are unchanged, but let me tell you that if you refuse, you will die here, slowly and painfully. I will take the quicker option and take John's life then mine.'

Dane looked at her through half-closed eyes, expression impossible to read then over to the inert form of Colonel John Sheppard; the man who he wanted to destroy more than anything now making him chose between living and dying, and the choice was whether the other man would live or die with him. The look in Cat's eyes told him that she was deadly serious, as was the gun now trained towards her husband.

With a shrug he made his decision. 'I will help.'

_**TBC**_

_**Please R & R if you want to find out what happens next. All writers need encouragement! There's a lot to still unravel here.**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks to my reviewers for all your kind comments. It's time to start to draw things to a conclusion, though there is still a little way to go. Again, RL and holidays got in the way of this chapter, but the next should be up more quickly.**

Cat had some serious decisions to make and not much time to make them. Peering up into the dappled canopy she tried to work out in which direction the suns were moving, aware that she needed to keep them behind her if she were to at least be heading in roughly the right direction; there seemed to be more light coming from her left. In terms of provisions, they clearly couldn't carry as much as before, so the back packs had been emptied of all but a two bottles of water and a couple of power bars each. Their precious sleeping bag had needed to be used for another purpose, as a makeshift stretcher between two long bamboo –like sticks and tied on by the rope that John always carried in his pack. God knows if it was strong enough to take his weight, or to last long, but it was the best they had other than giving him a fireman's lift which she feared might be too rough for his condition. John was gently propped against a tree, eerily still apart from a faint quivering which she wished was more than just an automatic physical response to his fever. In all the time since he'd been shot, he hadn't said a word and had only been really conscious once, but she couldn't allow herself to worry about what that meant. All she knew was that she had to find the boat and get him safely back to Atlantis. She'd worry about the rest later.

As well, she had to contend with Dane. His mistrust and tension was evident from the set of his shoulders and every now and then she caught his pale face grimly looking at her in a way that she could only call dangerously. That was another decision she might need to make over the course of the next day or so.

'Come here,' she ordered. She saw him take a deep breath, then with reluctant obedience walk in her direction. 'Now, carefully, we'll lift him onto the stretcher. You will walk ahead and I'll be following you and remember, I still have the gun. One false move and I _will_ shoot you.'

With a simple, 'I know,' he walked to the head of the stretcher and together they silently lifted it, Cat all the while watching John's face for any signs of a change in his condition. He still looked as pale as a ghost, his skin-colour pigmented with the occasional rosy blotch which was anything but healthy. Briefly, her composure was threatened and tears began to well as her mind wandered to that shallowly buried place where she dreaded that he wouldn't survive; that he would die right here in the forest; that she might never see his hazel eyes looking lovingly at her again or feel his strong arms around her; that Mona might never see her 'dada' again. God forgive her, but she'd already decided what she would do if he didn't make it and it didn't include rescuing Dane from the dangers of this planet. No. _His_ only way out was to help her and he knew it. With a determined shrug and a silently blown kiss towards her husband, she straightened her shoulders, mentally checked the gun tucked in her belt, and gave the order to walk. And the awkward trio once again staggered through the dense undergrowth, two of them with distinctly different intentions and the other undoubtedly having some strange fever-ridden dreams which he would probably never remember if he recovered.

***

When Teyla had rushed in with little Mona and Torren, Rodney McKay immediately knew that something was wrong. I mean, the old Rodney would have half registered that Teyla was upset, but fatherhood had given him an empathy which some of his old college associates would not have recognised. In the next few minutes he'd managed to glean from a distraught little girl that something had happened to Janet. He'd never seen Mona so frightened or quiet before. And, that couldn't be worse timing because she resolutely refused to listen to his requests for help and was stubbornly sitting on the floor, legs crossed and eyes shut. Eventually, he resorted to the only thing that he knew might get her attention.

'Now listen, Mona. If you don't come here and put your hand on this little machine, it is entirely possible that Atlantis will be destroyed or we will all lose our homes.' Nothing. Not even a flicker of a flicker crossed her face. He paused for a brief moment, glancing down anxiously at his watch. Two minutes. He needed to have this damn thing activated in two minutes. If he ever saw Sheppard again, he'd have something to say to him about stubborn genes. One last thing to try. 'Mona. If you don't put your hand on this little machine and make it light up, you might never seen mama and dada again.' Immediately, he regretted the harshness of this threat as two tear-filled and frightened green eyes stared back at him, but then she took a deep breath and dropped her shoulders, so like her father he noticed, and stood up straight. 'Okay, Uncle Rodney. I will make the machine light up,' and she walked towards him, putting her tiny right hand in his.

'We just need to wait for a little longer, sweetie,' he said as quietly as he could, nodding in Radek's direction. God knows if this would work and he only hoped that Ronon and Lorne were out of the way.

At the other end of the city, Ronon and Lorne were fighting battles of their own. All they really had to do was get out of the way of The Genii without the soldiers suspecting anything, but the little group ahead of them had somehow managed to gain a stronghold and were blocking their way to the most convenient way out of the corridors: a small anti-room which held one of the many small Ancient laboratories that honeycombed Atlantis. He glanced at his watch and cursed 'damn it' under his breath, earning a worried glance from Lorne. Jennifer Keller and her team had cleared the corridors of the dead and injured and Ronon and Lorne had managed to get messages to most of the city's inhabitants, many of whom were well out of the corridors in any case, logic and self-protection telling them the obvious: keep away from the sound of gunfire. Ronon briefly smirked at the thought of McKay's snarkiness and a memory of a typical comment made in an equally dangerous situation. 'Oh, that's right, let's run towards the gunfire!' Well, there really was nothing for it now. He nodded at Lorne who understood immediately the implication and raised a hand in readiness to his men and Ronon prepared himself. Do or die, yet again, he thought ironically.

Lorne gave the signal and as one they made their move, but instead of fending off the attack, the other soldiers beat a hasty retreat. A few were picked off as they backed down the corridor and then they were gone.

'What the hell?' shouted Ronon to Lorne, but there was no time to pursue. Ducking into the Ancient lab, the door zipping firmly closed behind them, all they could do was look at each other in puzzlement. Lorne just shook his head back and Ronon glanced at his watch. One minute. Well, there was more than one way to skin a nanthu, he thought.

Richard Woolsey stirred from unconsciousness and immediately became aware of the excruciating pain in his arm. The control room once again began to swim before his eyes, but he was brought back to alertness by the familiar sound of the gate activating. Shuffling himself to a sitting position, he could just see over the balcony and, as his sight cleared he saw, not the black uniforms of Atlantis personnel, but the grey and green uniforms of a small group of Genii soldiers. They appeared to be waiting for someone or something. He was just considering what to do next, when a large soldier came rushing into the gate room, clasping something wrapped in a cloth under his arm and in a gruff voice announcing, 'I've got it. Let's go.'

From the group a smaller man stepped forward. 'But, we have men left in the city. We must wait for them.'

The larger man moved forward menacingly. 'You can stay if you wish, but we have what we came for and we are leaving.'

At that, the green and grey shirts disappeared through the shimmering blue of the gate and at the last minute the smaller man, with a quick and guilty glance backward, stepped after them and the gate shut down. And Richard Woolsey promptly passed out again.

'What the..?? The gate's just activated, Rodney,' shouted Radek.

'Someone arriving?' Immediately, Rodney's hopes were raised. Sheppard to the rescue? Ha! This time, too late and Rodney McKay will have saved the day through the power of his intelligence and not through brute force. Colonel 'hero' Sheppard would have to eat some humble pie!

'No, not arriving. Leaving. And gone,' replied Zelenka. 'It seems that some of our guests have left us. But not all. There are still others left in the city.' He pointed to the small life-signs detector on his lap-top.

Rodney sighed. Heart of hearts? He'd really hoped it was John. They'd had little time to worry about Cat and him but at fleeting moments a heavy dread had cast a shadow and briefly distracted him from what he was doing. Well, back to the task in hand.

He buzzed his ear piece. 'Ronon? Lorne? Hope you can hear me because you have ten seconds to get out of the corridor if you're in it.' Then, smiling encouragingly at Mona, he took her little hand and placed it on the small Ancient switching device attached to his slab. Instantly, it lit up and began to emit a slow throbbing sound that built and built to a high pitched squeal before throwing a massive pulse outwards.

'Oh, crap!' Rodney swore, before collapsing in a crumpled heap to the ground, along with everyone else in the room.

Across the city, blue pulses of light fired the green walls, creating an almost magical light show as they burst through the city's corridors, illuminating them with a kaleidoscope of red, orange and purple. It was just a pity that there was no-one to witness its beauty.

***

Her back ached beyond aching. Her legs hurt beyond hurting. Behind her, the suns shone high above the trees, their vibrant rays piercing the gaps and spearing the ground with an almost perceptible hiss at their heat touched the dampness underfoot. How long they'd been walking she had no idea and at first she thought she was hallucinating when the trees began to shrink and lessen and the ground became harder and more resilient, the soft forest floor gradually receding behind them. There was a hint of something different in the air and she somehow knew, that knowledge that is almost instinctual among mammals, that the sea was closer: a freshening saltiness just evident enough to show that this part of their journey was almost over. And, before she even had time to register it, her tiredness numbing her senses so that she wasn't entirely sure if she were conscious at all times, they almost burst into open air and a flat stretch of land, brown-patched and sere, opened up ahead of them. In the distance, and she sincerely hoped it wasn't a mirage, there was a blue glimmer of water. To either side on the horizon were large clumps of trees and on the left a long blue line cut through the ground, slicing a divide between here and the distance. John had said something about the boat being hidden and since logic suggested that it wouldn't be moored right on the coastline, she had to assume that it was somewhere in one of these copses and if that blue line was what she hoped it was, then the boat surely had to be in the left hand clump of trees.

John? She'd been so single-mindedly determined to reach this point, that she'd almost forgotten him, knowing that stopping would do none of them any favours. But now, she looked and what she saw caused her heart to sink. He looked terrible. His dark hair flattened to his head, the blood and sweat having combined and set, and his face an appalling grey. The bandage, once soaked with blood, was also dry and dirty with the grime and soil picked up from the journey through the forest. She staggered and shouted out to Dane, her voice coarse through dryness and underuse.

'Stop! Put the stretcher down. Gently.' Not looking at the other man, she knelt over John and nervously felt for a pulse. There, still, but so faint that it almost wasn't. His skin was frighteningly cold and she didn't want to think about what that meant. If the fever was gone, that was good, but she doubted if it was that simple. She grabbed her back-pack and took the bottle from it, and with a sinking feeling as she realised how little water they had left, dribbled the last few drops over his mouth, wetting his dry lips and hoping that at least some had found its way further in.

She felt rather than saw Dane's disapproval and looked up at him. He scowled back and, though he didn't say a word she knew what he meant. 'Why waste the last of our water on a dying man?' was written all over his features. And her look back said, 'because he's worth a hundred of you and I won't let him die,' at which he simply shrugged his shoulders and turned again, ready to pick up the stretcher.

With a deep sigh, she said 'let's go' before pausing to consider which way. It was pot-luck, a fifty-fifty chance of finding the right hiding place, if indeed this was the place on the coastline at all, and she had to make another one of those decisions. 'We'll head to the left clump of trees,' she said, with as much confidence as she could muster. Dane must not suspect her doubt.

Again the four-legged monster took off across the dried ground. High above, strange birds swirled, readying themselves for the expected feast below when the monster finally collapsed in the heat. They must have been walking for an hour or so before Cat looked up again. Damn it! Why didn't they seem any closer? A couple of times, Dane stumbled and righted himself, but it was clear too that he was on his last legs. Time stretched ahead of them as did the shadows, moving in front of them like strangely dislocated beings, separate from but attached to them at the toes. Eventually, Cat came too from her half consciousness and realised that finally the trees were much closer. From here, she could just about hear the sound of the gentle swell of the sea and the chirrup of the birds that nested in the tree-tops. As well, there was the distant sound of running water and she realised that the blue line that stretched to the trees from the edges of the deeper forest was what she hoped it was: a small rivulet taking the waters of the rainforest down to the ocean's edge. The boat just had to be in there somewhere.

With renewed energy and one last glance at John, she spurred them forwards, her whole focus on that one spot of potential salvation. She could sense Dane's nervousness and knew too that it was at that point that he would make his move. Would he attempt to take the boat by force? If he had infiltrated Atlantis then he had a chance of getting through the city's defences, especially if the explosion had done serious damage, a thought that she had not allowed herself to think for some time, with all the attached possibilities of harm to Mona and her friends, and he could leave them here for dead. On the other hand, she had the gun. What she feared most was that she might have to use it.

At the edges of the copse, he stopped still. 'What are you doing? Carry on,' she demanded, with as much strength as she could muster.

For a moment, she thought he would drop the stretcher and turn on her, but he seemed to change his mind and simply began walking again, without a word. Tensely, they entered the wood, once again cut off from the hot suns by a roof of trees, the dappled light almost beautiful to her even now. Ahead, she could hear the running water of the rivulet, louder and stronger now, and smell the musty odour of damp fungus and undergrowth, mixed incongruously with the saltiness of the sea air. Then, suddenly there opened up a space in the trees, the rivulet running into a wider pool of water and she spotted the little boat, nestling in the reeds on the opposite side where Carson had 'hidden' it for his 'special' fishing expeditions. She would never again be bored by his exaggerated tales of catching giant trout-like fish 'this big'. In fact, if she got out of this she'd give him the biggest hug ever and promise to go fishing with him one day.

She must have spoken out loud, because Dane looked at her strangely and she coughed self-consciously. 'There's the boat. Now, take the stretcher over to its side so we can get John into it.' Again, he seemed to hesitate, then shrugged his shoulders and simply continued towards where the boat was moored. He even gently placed the stretcher on the soft ground.

It was then that he made his move. With a leap, he was on her, taking advantage of her weakened state, and attempted to grab the gun from her belt. Before she knew it, he was on top of her, one arm across her neck, crushing her windpipe. As she struggled for breath, she felt him trying to pull at the gun and she briefly gave up hope. So this was it? The man who once saved her was to be her end?

Then, she remembered John, she remembered Mona, and she heard her daughter's strident voice in her head. 'Save dada, mama,' came the real, or imagined cry, and Cat obeyed. Maybe he too realised what he was doing, that he was about to kill the woman he loved and let go just a little, because with one last effort she forced his arm from her throat and shouted 'no.!' At the same time, she managed to get a hand on the gun. For a few seconds they played some kind of incongruous tug of war before she felt the gun move.

The shot echoed around the empty landscape, bouncing off the hot sky and back to the hard, dry ground, disappearing towards the distant forest and across the ocean like a stone skimming across its surface. She felt something wet and hot against her side and their eyes met in mutual horror for a second. Then, Dane fell over her and rolled gently off, dropping into the water with the gentlest splash, before his body turned over onto its front and he was taken off by the quiet currents towards the ocean. She thought, though she could have imagined it, that she heard a whispered 'sorry' before he disappeared from view.

The shock of what she had just done hit her like a lead anvil and she began to shake uncontrollably, eyes dry with unshed tears, and wrapped her arms around her knees to try and stop, before she gained some semblance of control again and looked down at John. Not even having the courage to check his pulse this time, just in case it was too late, she pulled the boat closer to the edge of the water and tied the rope as firmly as she could. Then with one last gargantuan effort, she lifted the top end of the stretcher onto the boat, and then quickly, before she could lose her balance, grabbed the feet end and stepped sideways into the boat herself. It rocked precariously as she did so but somehow she managed to safely lift him into it and remain dry herself. Then, she grabbed the little oars, loosened the mooring rope and, without further thought as to where she was going and how far it was, started to row.

For a while, the current took her out to sea. John was right about there being no breakers here and the current was kind to her, ebbing easily out to the open water. At one point, she thought she saw a pale body, already sinking below the surface, but turned her attention to the simple task of rowing. In front of her, the pale and deathly still form of her husband lay, motionless as he had been for the last twenty four hours.

***

Ronon stirred, coming too as always first, and forced himself to a standing position. Next to him, Lorne and Amelia were also moving and, as Lorne got up, he clutched his arm with a sharp wince. 'I, 'em, think I might have broken something in my fall,' he said in typically understated fashion, by which Ronon knew that it must be pretty painful.

He clicked his radio. 'McKay? Rodney? Teyla? Zelenka? Anyone?? What the hell just happened?'

At the end of his radio came a muffled groan then a familiar, but very groggy whine. 'Um, I think we might have overcooked the goose slightly,' muttered Rodney McKay. Next to him, Teyla was already up and checking on the children who looked stunned but unhurt, raising an eyebrow at yet another weird Earth expression. She could almost hear Ronon's matching quizzical look through her radio.

Zelenka was pulling himself up stiffly to the laptop. 'Well,' he confirmed,' No life signs left in the corridors. If there are any Genii left, they managed to find somewhere safe. We will have to do a sweep of the city, but I think we got most of them.'

From the other end of the radio Ronon said, 'Understood. We will check. Are you all alright? The children? Teyla?'

'Yes, we are all fine,' she answered. 'Do you need any help?'

'No. Look after the children and check on everyone else, if you can. ' And with that, Ronon was gone, doing what he did best: doing.

Rodney walked over to Zelenka and pushed him unceremoniously out of the way. Business as usual, grumbled the little Czech to himself. 'Okay. So, systems are coming back on line. Not everything is working, but all the important ones are. The shield is now....up...and the generators are all on line. It'll take a bit of work but I think we can do the important repairs in a few days. The decorators will have to come in later! ' With a sudden guilty afterthought, he clicked his radio again. 'Katie? Are you and the girls alright?' Initially, he was met with static and he could feel the panic rising. He clicked again. 'Katie? Are you and the girls....?

'We're fine Rodney. Just a little shaken. What happened?'

He sighed with relief. 'Tell you later. I suggest you get yourselves back to our quarters. It's safe now, but you might need to shield their eyes along the way. There could well be some dead Genii blocking the corridor.'

There was a pause down the other end before Katie came back more strongly. 'Understood. I'll be careful. See you later.'

Rodney McKay took a moment to smile proudly at his wife's fortitude and then turned back to Teyla. 'No then, apart from the obvious: clearing up dead bodies, healing the wounded, mending the city, where the hell do you imagine Sheppard and Cat are?'

The sensor sweep of the planet showed no signs of John or Cat Sheppard, though it didn't take them long to find the jumper, abandoned not far from the makeshift camp on the sandy beach. Ronon spotted tracks from the jumper across towards the centre of the planet, but they didn't pursue it further given the lack of life signs. Before they gave up hope, all fearing the worst, they did a final wide search and it was there that they spotted the little boat in the middle of the ocean, with one stronger and one very faint life sign.

On board the rescue shuttle were Ronon, Teyla, Rodney McKay and Jennifer Keller. Mona wanted to come to, and Jennifer had to immobilise her with a tranquiliser just so they could get away. Non-one spoke of the faint life sign or of who it might be. They just knew that their friends needed help, one much more than the other.

Cat heard before she saw the jumper and the sight stopped her rowing, never to start again. Instantly, she was up and kneeling over John. He looked dead. Trembling, she put her fingers to his pulse. Nothing. She was too late. She was vaguely aware of the jumper landing on the water and then its shield being extended to cover the rowing boat and of kind and familiar voices. She heard her voice squeak painfully, 'he's dead. I'm too late,' before she passed out and was carried gently into the back of the jumper. Behind her she didn't see the mad scramble to save Colonel John Sheppard. She didn't hear him being laid in the jumper. She didn't see Jennifer Keller shouting to the pilot to get them back to Atlantis and quickly. She didn't hear the panicked voices of his oldest friends as their doctor tried to pump life back into him. And with the rest of his friends she had no idea whether Atlantis' military commander would be returning home dead or alive.

_**Please R & R if you want to hear more. I mean, there's still some whump to come and loose ends to tie up. What did The Genii take from Atlantis? Will John Sheppard make it? Will he be alright if he does? Do you want more East Pier, my thunker friends?? It's in your hands!!!**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Thank you so much to all my reviewers. Your comments are always valued and appreciated. So, here's the next stage. There be some whump here and more. Bits are a little dark and some may be distressing. Much of this chapter is based on personal experience, either directly or anecdotally and some I found quite difficult to write.**_

The mood in the jumper bay was sombre and anxious, though in other circumstances the two waiting figures with matching slings might have been comical. Richard Woolsey's pale and shiny countenance told of the pain he was still suffering from his broken collar bone but the nursing staff had been unable to obey Jennifer Keller's orders to keep him in the infirmary at all costs. He'd not really had time to catch up on the events of the past few days either, but both he and Lorne were determined to stand and wait for their military commander; whether it was to pay last respects or greet him back alive was yet to be seen. The last and hurried message from the rescue jumper had been that they were fighting to keep him alive but that it didn't look good, but nothing on why or how he was so badly injured.

As the familiar sound of the gate activating rumbled up through the floor to the jumper bay, Major Evan Lorne said a silent prayer. After all these years and battles won and lost for the city, John Sheppard did not deserve to die on an off world holiday with his wife. From the beginning, he'd not been one of the Sheppard detractors and his loyalty had been unwavering since; he'd never labelled the man's bravery and self-sacrifice as foolhardy or reckless, unlike some of the more senior commanders at Stargate Command, and had fought a constant battle to alter the entrenched opinions of younger soldiers arriving in the city who, even after all these years, still believed some of the unkinder rumour mongers. So, it was with a sharp intake of breath that he waited for the jumper to settle in the bay.

Inside the jumper there was silence apart from the sound of Jennifer Keller trying to resuscitate John. Cat was being attended to by one of her nurses. In other circumstances, she would have had Jennifer's full attention, but she hadn't been able to pause since the rescue. How his body was still trying to stay alive she couldn't say and she hadn't been able to have a look yet at the wound behind the bandage on his head. The craft landed with a little bump and almost before the back hatch was open, her medics were on board, with gentle urgency picking up the stretcher and placing it on the waiting gurney and then speeding off down the corridor to the nearest transporter, with Dr Keller still desperately trying to keep him alive, and his close friends not far behind. Following, was the gurney with Cat on board, unconscious through exhaustion and dehydration rather than anything else, a drip already giving her the fluid she badly needed. And left in the jumper bay were the two men. Lorne looked at Woolsey for silent permission which was greeted with a nod of the head, and then he too ran after his commander and friend.

Richard Woolsey sighed before heading back down the stairs to the gate room and his office. He would take his mind of things by finding out everything that had happened in his 'absence'.

She was in a boat on choppy waters. Something was wrong but she didn't know what. Someone should be with her in the boat but she didn't know who, but her rising panic suggested something bad had happened. She could swear that she had just heard a plop as though something or someone had fallen into the water. Jumping up, the boat rocking precariously under her, she looked over the edge into the water. Far below was a familiar form, rising slowly upwards towards her and the surface. As it appeared through the murk, she recognised John. His mouth was open in a ghastly gape for air and his eyes were cloudy and dull. She tried to grab him but he was just too far away beneath the water. Suddenly, his body twitched and he grasped her hand and she heard a distant voice shout 'help me!'

Cat screamed. She felt firm hands holding her and heard quiet voices soothing her and as she became more conscious she stopped fighting them. Blearily, she saw Teyla and Ronon, one on either side of her, comforting and soothing her. Familiar smells permeated her senses: antiseptic, metallic, chemical. The blue-green walls shone mutely, reflecting the dulled lights of the infirmary. Reality hit her hard as she began to come too.

'John?' she asked tentatively, then shut her eyes in preparation for the inevitable.

Teyla glanced at Ronon. 'We do not know, Cat. He has been in the operating theatre for several hours and we have heard no news. John always says that no news is good news, so I think that we must stay hopeful.'

Cat registered for the first time how tired her two friends looked and took a deep breath, desperate for something to take her mind of what might be happening in the next room. 'Tell me? What happened here? All we knew was that something was wrong then there was some kind of explosion and nothing worked any more. We had to leave the jumper behind. John...,' here she paused and regained her composure, 'John tried to get it working but it went dead and we had to walk across land to find Carson's boat.'

From the look on her face, Teyla could tell that there was much, much more to tell and she was burning to find out, but now wasn't the right time, not with her old friend's life in the balance.

'Rodney discovered that someone had sabotaged the city's systems, but it was too late. There was a series of explosions around the city and everything went down. Then, The Genii arrived through the gate and took the city.' Cat's eyes widened. Memories of her own treatment and torture under The Genii still painfully fresh in her mind. 'Rodney managed to get some of the systems back on line and we fought them off. He sent an energy burst through the city's corridors.' The similarity with how another Genii incursion had been foiled hadn't escaped any of them. 'Many Genii soldiers were killed in the burst, although some still managed to escape through the gate.' Again she paused, and this time Cat caught a sense of something unsaid.

'What aren't you telling me, Teyla? Is everyone alright? Oh my God, how's Mona? Is she alright?' A vision of losing both her loved ones crashed over her like a tidal wave.

'Mona is well. She is sleeping now, but I am certain she will want to see you as soon as she wakes up.' Then Teyla told Cat about Janet and how she had died saving her and the children. And of how Mona had helped Rodney activate the Ancient systems. And of the odd conversation overheard by Richard Woolsey in the gate room: that The Genii's purpose had been more than just sabotage or revenge; they had wanted something and had clearly found it, though nobody had yet been able to discover what.

It was a lot to take in, but it had, at least temporarily, distracted them from their most pressing worry so that almost unheard Jennifer Keller entered the room. She looked exhausted and Cat held her breath for the news that she was certain was coming.

'Well, we have stabilised John for now,' she said. 'It was touch and go for a while, but he is out of immediate danger.' Jennifer paused. The doctor's role suggested that she should lay the facts objectively in front of the relatives, but these people were also her friends. 'He has a serious head injury. The bullet had lodged in his left temporal lobe and has caused some damage. Fortunately, it wasn't too deep and we have managed to remove it. There is some swelling of the brain caused by the shock of the bullet entering the skull and we have put in a small shunt to relieve the pressure and allow the brain to settle down and recover. He is lucky. There is no evidence of a haematoma at this stage. However, he has contracted a nasty infection and has a very high temperature. As well, he was severely dehydrated.' Doctor Keller inwardly winced at the look on Cat Sheppard's face but knew that she needed the whole truth. 'He is in a medically induced coma at present, although he hasn't been conscious at all. The brain needs time to recover a little. We also have him on a strong dose of antibiotics to try to ward off the infection. You can see him if you want, once we have him properly settled in ICU, but not for long. You need to recover too, you know.'

Cat's brain was racing. She needed some answers: something definite. 'But he will be alright, won't he?' she asked.

Jennifer looked from Ronon to Teyla, then back to Cat. 'We will have to wait. Brain injuries react in different ways. But, you have to understand that he is critical at the moment.'

Painfully, Cat got herself out of bed and dressed, against the advice of the ministering angels who tried to make her rest more. She knew what to expect in ICU but it was still a shock to see him pinned out on the bed. Tubes entered his body delivering necessary fluids and exited it doing the same and the machines bleeped and flashed around him. Somehow, she'd expected to see more of his face, but his head was even more bandaged now. Behind his one visible eyelid she could see the movement of his eye as it twitched to whatever wild or banal dreams he was having, but beyond that he was stiller than still, the only other movement being of his chest as the ventilator blew life-giving air into his lungs. She knew that a nurse would be with him twenty four hours a day as he struggled to recover but needed to be with him too and gratefully took the chair offered to her. From here, she could stroke his arm, soothing him when his head pressures peaked or when other unknown alarms bleeped or soared, as they did with frightening frequency. Behind her, the tall figure of the Satedan hovered uncertainly, uncomfortable in such distress but unwilling to leave the man he considered to be his brother; and Teyla placed a soothing hand on her shoulder; at the back of the ward stood the stoic figure of John's second in command.

Suddenly, there was a commotion in the other room and the sound of shouting and screaming. A struggle was clearly taking place, then the door swished open and a mini-whirlwind blew into the ward, followed by a very out of breath Rodney and Katie McKay.

'Mama!' shouted Mona, 'where's dada?' Cat nodded to the McKays to let her daughter come in unhindered, holding out her arms. The little girl rushed to her and leapt onto her lap, clinging and sobbing into Cat's neck but as the tears subsided, she noticed the prone figure of her father lying on the bed. Mona was rarely silent, but the sight seemed to mute her completely and her eyes opened in shock. With one long frightened stare she looked in his direction before turning on her heals and, back straight and firm, walked from the room, grasping Katie McKay's hand firmly as she did. Katie looked back to Cat for permission but all Cat could do was shrug her shoulders and allow her daughter to leave. It would be some time before Mona would be prepared to visit her father again.

Over the next few days, the little group found themselves a rhythm and routine which was surprisingly comfortable given the circumstances. If Cat had allowed herself to think about it, she would have understood what the medical staff knew all too well: that families need to find something 'normal' to hold onto even in the direst and most stressful circumstances. They took it in turns to sit with John and every hour the shift would change, allowing each to rest or eat, even talk and laugh at times about nothing and everything. And nothing changed apart from a few mini crises. Every day, the nurses reduced John's sedative in order to test his alertness and every day he stayed motionless and unresponsive. They assured her that this was normal and she tried to believe them. Every day, Cat woke after a night of exhausted sleep to a gnawing panic in her gut and ran to the infirmary, dreading what she might find there. It wasn't until the fifth day that something changed.

As she approached the infirmary, Cat could hear something happening: the sound of a scuffle or fight and shouting, both male and female voices, but the door to the little ICU room was firmly locked. The noises were definitely coming from within. It was only seconds, but it seemed like hours before the door opened and a rather ruffled male nurse exited. Seeing her there, he attempted to straighten his uniform and appeared to take a deep breath.

'Um..Doctor Sheppard,' he muttered. 'I think you might say that Colonel Sheppard has just shown the first signs of being more conscious!'

Jennifer Keller emerged behind him. 'Alan,' she said to the young nurse,' go and get yourself cleaned up and have a rest. We can manage from here,' and she smiled affirmingly at him, before turning to Cat.

'Well!' she said. 'I think you might say that your husband is showing some of his fighting spirit! We reduced his sedation this morning and he certainly woke up. The trouble is that he wanted to get out of bed and started fighting with the nurses. It took four of us to hold him down and stop him pulling out all of his tubes and his head pressures began to spike rather dramatically. I don't think it's quite time for him to come round properly yet and we've put him back under a different sedation. Next time, he should come round more gradually. But, I think you might say that this is a very hopeful sign, Cat.'

Over the next few days, there were similar moments of chaos but gradually the battles lessened. A couple of times, Cat was certain that John was about to come to, his one visible eye open revealing a bloodshot and unfocussed eye, and she was certain that he squeezed her finger gently once or twice. But still, he remained resolutely unconscious. It wasn't until the tenth day that something happened. She had just left for a rest and Ronon had taken over the shift when she heard heavy footsteps running down the corridor after her and a loud voice shout, 'Cat? I think you should come back to the ICU now. John needs you.'

With trepidation she looked up at Ronon then together they ran back to the little room. Beginning to stir was John, his visible eye more obviously open and he seemed to be looking around for something. She rushed to his side and took his hand.

'Sweetheart? John? Can you hear me? It's me, Cat,' and she stroked his arm gently. The eye turned towards her and she could see how difficult he was finding it to focus on her, then he simply mouthed her name and tried to smile. She'd stayed so strong for so long that his smile released what last resistance she had and she simply put her head on his chest and cried, tears of relief and exhaustion. When she looked up, he was asleep again, but this time Jennifer assured her was proper rest and not just drug induced.

'I must go and tell Mona,' Cat eventually managed to say. 'Perhaps now she'll come and visit her dada.'

The residents of Atlantis greeted the news with tempered joy. Too many of them had experienced the death or injury of loved ones while in the city and they all knew that Colonel Sheppard had a long way to go before he was fully recovered. No-one openly spoke of the possibility of brain damage or of less than full recovery.

Richard Woolsey was bent over some paperwork in his office when Ronon, Teyla, Rodney and Lorne entered. He'd called a meeting as soon as he heard the news about John. Over the past days he'd managed to piece together most of what had happened but he needed their individual reports of, what he had named in his paperwork, 'The Atlantis Incident'. The 'what' had happened was fairly clear, but they now needed to resolve the 'why'. And for that, he also needed Catherine Sheppard's report of events on the mainland. In turn, the group told of events from their perspective. The death of friends, especially Janet Donaldson, hung heavily over them. There were still funerals to arrange and messages to compose to loved ones. Normally, John took full responsibility for such missives to members of the military contingent, but Lorne would have to do it this time and he was less than comfortable with the charge. They decided that he and Woolsey would write the messages together. Who knew when or if Colonel Sheppard would be able to take that unfortunate task again?

'So, let's summarise what we know so far? It began with sabotage of minor systems by someone who had either infiltrated the city or was already here. We have performed a full register of current inhabitants and there are several possibilities. Unfortunately, we still have three missing persons and we must assume that our saboteur is one of these. It may be that Doctor Sheppard can be of some help in this matter and she will be joining us shortly.' He stopped and raised an eyebrow at the team opposite in an attempt to forestall the expected objections to this. 'It is necessary that we have all the information. I, too, am sorry to bring her into this at this time.' He paused briefly then continued. 'This person must have had the Ancient gene and some good engineering knowledge. The resulting explosions caused our systems to go off line and allowed The Genii to gate in and take the city. Thankfully, due to the bravery and determination of many and, of course, Doctors McKay and Zelenka, we managed to retake the city. However, something has been taken from here that The Genii wanted and we must assume that this was their main reason for the attack and the damage was a gratuitous side-effect. It is imperative that we find out what this 'something' is, which could be easier said than done, especially if, as seems likely, it is some kind of artefact from the Archives. Without a current Archivist and with the damage down there, finding what it is could prove almost impossible.'

He paused again at the sound of footsteps across the walkway to his office. Cat walked in tentatively. She knew that she would have to recount the details of what happened on the mainland sometime, but also that it would prove painful to do so, especially since she blamed herself for much of what had happened. Had she treated Dane with more respect, said a proper farewell and thanked him for all he had done for her, then maybe, just maybe, none of this might have happened.

'Thank you for coming, Doctor Sheppard. I know this won't be easy for you, but could you please give an account of what happened on the mainland?' He attempted a reassuring smile.

And so she did. She told them everything she could remember, trying to avoid their faces, knowing that some of it would cause John's friends distress or anger and she didn't want to see pity for her there either if she were to remain strong.

'Thank you, Catherine,' Woolsey said. 'That has been a great help. At least we now know that our saboteur is dead. Unfortunately, it also means that one of our missing three is also dead. It would seem that this 'Dane' fell right into the hands of The Genii and they used him to their own ends, as always. I think that we should focus all our efforts now in finding out what they stole, don't you?

'Once things have settled down a little with John, I might be able to help there,' offered Cat, slightly unwillingly. The thought of going to the place where Janet was killed was not a pleasant one, but after what she'd been through over the past two weeks, certainly not the worst thing she'd had to face. 'I know she made some changes to the cataloguing system but it is still basically what I set up. I can try to find out if anything is missing?'

'You will need some help, Catherine,' answered Woolsey. 'It's a mess down there. Lorne? Please detail a couple of men to help when Doctor Sheppard is ready? Thank you.' And with that, he put his pen down neatly next to the writing pad, which he closed firmly. A sign, they all knew, that the meeting was over.

Why was it that sometimes she could walk to the infirmary with a spring in her step and other times she just had a feeling that something was wrong? Today it was the latter and the feeling was very powerful. In truth, she was rarely right, but it didn't stop the panic rising. John was now out of intensive care and in a side ward in the main infirmary. The antibiotics had begun to manage the infection but in other ways the progress was painfully slow. Sometimes, he'd seem quite alert and lucid and then he'd say something that made her realise just how far he had to go. The ventilator tube had come out immediately he was conscious and he was now breathing for himself, his voice less hoarse now from the inevitable bruising it had caused. Yesterday, for example, he'd claimed all day that he was going home that evening; that he was much better and that no-one else knew what they were talking about. Jennifer had told her that it was perfectly normal where there has been a brain injury, but that didn't help. And on top of this, Mona was resolutely refusing to see him. All she had said since that day in ICU was that he wasn't her dada at the moment and that she didn't want to see him until he was. Cat tended to sympathise. She'd been so angry with him, or at him, or for him, she didn't know which, that she'd had to leave the infirmary just to calm down.

He was asleep when she arrived and she gasped at how normal he looked today. Sometime overnight the large bandage had been removed and there was a padded plaster covering the wound. There would be a shaved patch under there too which he wouldn't be happy about. His dark hair was still matted and flat, though someone had clearly made an attempt to clean away what was left of the blood and dirt and, more importantly, both eyes were visible. The nurses had also helped him to shave and in sleep, though very thin and drawn, he looked closer to his old self. She sat down on the padded chair next to the bed, the place that had become an almost permanent residence for her, and rested her chin in her hands, taking in the familiar shape of her husband. It seemed like an eternity since he'd held her in his arms and told her he loved her and she longed for that warmth and security.

She must have drifted off to sleep because when she woke up he was sitting bolt upright in bed, staring at her wide-eyed, his pupils dark and large, made even more so by the thinness of his face.

'John?' she started, 'How are you feeling...?'

He leered back at her. 'I'm fine, gorgeous. Why don't you come here and I'll show you exactly how fine I am.' At this, he whipped off the bedclothes, his erection clearly showing how 'fine' he was. 'Come and sit on this,' he said lustfully as he tried to grab her. As he leant forward, he lost his balance and toppled off the edge of the bed, landing with a hard thump on the floor. Cat shouted and the nurses came running, quickly picking him up, settling him back down and checking him over for any injury. As they did, his hands roved over them, clutching at intimate parts of their bodies. With horror and tears running down her face, she ran from the room, straight into the small form of Jennifer Keller, nearly sending them both toppling over.

'What's the matter, Cat,' asked Jennifer quietly. 'Come and sit down. Over here.' She guided Cat to her small office. Through half-controlled sobs, Cat explained what had just happened.

'I am so sorry, Cat. I should have warned you that this was a possibility. Some head injury patients suffer from increased sexual behaviour and it can be totally random and uncontrolled. I once treated a vicar who insisted on showing himself to all the nurses. You must understand, it isn't really John and it will settle down as he recovers more. In some ways, it's a good sign.' Cat gave her a look that said 'are you mad'? 'His recovery is following the usual protocols. You have to stay positive, for his sake, Cat. We will just have to wait until it passes. In the meantime, I rather suspect that a few nurses who have been lusting after your husband, might be ready to volunteer for extra duties!!'

Cat looked at her, horrified at the vision of sex-starved nurses taking advantage of his weakened condition before Jennifer recognised the effect of her joke and apologised. 'Sorry, bad joke. All my nurses are consummate professionals.'

It was hard to smile, but Cat allowed herself a small one at Jennifer's terrible medical humour. 'So, if this is normal, does this mean he's going to be alright? That he will be back to his old self soon?'

Once again, Jennifer was torn between doctor and friend. 'I am sorry but I can't promise you that. It is entirely possible that he will be permanently changed due to the injury. You may have to get to know a whole new John Sheppard, or at least a slightly different version of him, or he may be unaffected. There is now way we can predict what will happen.'

Cat shut her eyes in an attempt to shut out the distress she felt then seemed to make a decision. 'Well, if that's the case, it was fun getting to know John Sheppard the first time round. Let's hope the second time will be even better!' and she smiled a determined smile at her friend, before turning her back resolutely (just like your daughter, thought Jennifer) and walked back firmly to his room, ready for the next challenge.

_**As always, please R&R if you want. I always appreciate the encouragement. This was not an easy chapter to write and I'm looking forward to some TLC and recovery scenes – and that East Pier scene as well. **_

_**Mind you, there is a way to go and some mysteries to unravel – whether wholly or partly you will have to wait and see!! **_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Thank you to all my lovely reviewers. I'm glad you wanted more. Well, it's time for some recovery I think and a little TLC. But is it just the end of the beginning or the beginning of the end?? This chapter inevitably is seen from more than one perspective.**_

I am Colonel John Sheppard, Military Commander of Atlantis. I have a wife called Catherine, Cat for short, and a daughter called Mona, shortened from Monica. My closest friends are Ronon Dex, Teyla Emmagan and Rodney McKay.

I am Colonel John Sheppard, Military Commander of Atlantis. I have a wife called Catherine, Cat for short, and a daughter called Mona, shortened from Monica. My closest friends are Ronon Dex, Teyla Emmagan and Rodney McKay.

The mantra ran round his brain. He knew who he was but he didn't feel like him. And that was the most difficult thing to explain to his family and friends and he hadn't even tried. The face in the mirror, though thinner than usual, was still the same, but the eyes looking out of it saw something slightly off centre, not quite right. The hair was still speckled with grey and was even beginning to grow back over the healing wound. Vanity hoped that it would cover the scar. John ran his fingers over the place where the bullet had entered his skull and winced, but at least the discomfort was something tangible for him to grasp. Memories of the events on the mainland were sparse and came to him in flashes of still images rather than a linked sequence and there was nothing of just before he was shot or afterwards. Even now, he found it difficult to remember what he had said or done yesterday. Cat would sit with him, patiently waiting for him to be awake because he found it impossible to be so for more than a couple of hours at a time, and she would recount the story of what had happened from beginning to end. He knew that she thought he couldn't remember being told, but it wasn't that. Every time, he was able to add another piece to the broken jigsaw that was his memory.

Sometimes he felt so angry that he wanted to punch the lights out of anyone who happened to be near him at the time but he tried not to direct it at anyone. So, when his friends visited him, he laughed at their jokes and joined in with their conversations and they seemed to be convinced that he was almost 'back to normal'. Jennifer appeared to be pleased at his progress, something about following protocols, and he listened carefully to what she and the medical staff had to say about him, carefully taking note of what the next 'stage' was expected to be.

What was missing from his life, no was a great big gaping hole, was his daughter. He hadn't seen her and desperately needed to hold the little girl in his arms. Cat had tried to fend off his questions for several days and had finally told him the 'truth', that Mona had been scared by how he had looked in intensive care, but that she was doing everything she could to persuade her to visit. He knew there was more to it that that, though. If he didn't feel 'himself' then he suspected that his super empathic daughter would have picked up on it. Ironically, he also felt that contact with her might just make him feel a little closer to the old John Sheppard: it wouldn't be the first time that she had been able to help one of her parents to heal.

A voice broke his reverie. 'Good morning, Colonel. How are you feeling today? Time for your usual bloods and checks, I'm afraid.' John had developed quite a bond with Alan Bowman, the young nurse who he had, apparently, kicked around ICU not so long ago, but today his mood was one of his darker ones and he really didn't feel like talking.

'Right! That's if you can find a bit of me that isn't like a pin cushion.' He winced as Alan finally found a vein and took yet another phial of blood before settling back into his pillow moodily.

Alan Bowman recognised the symptoms. It was about time that his irascible patient went home. There was only so much that the medical staff could do and, assuming that John had the all clear today as far as infections were concerned, he knew that he would be back in the arms of the lovely Catherine very soon. As with many of the men in the city, of all ages, he had a bit of a 'thing' for the beautiful Mrs Sheppard and he would be sorry not to see her daily but he was certain that she was the best medication for The Colonel now. Also, he knew that there was a long way to go before his patient was fully recovered and that he would never do so in the infirmary. He would be sure to have a conversation with Dr Keller as soon as possible. So, he left John sitting up grumpily in bed, eyes firmly shut to the cruel world that was keeping him there.

As he did, Cat was just arriving for her morning visit. 'How's the worst patient in the world this morning, Alan?' she whispered to him.

'Well, Doctor Sheppard! I would say on the bad side of moody today. He needs a bit of cheering up, I think!' She watched as he headed towards Jennifer Keller, then sighing turned back towards John's room.

She glanced past the half-open door. He was either asleep or pretending to be, so she quickly took a detour to Jennifer's office. The slight doctor was busy looking over her computer, with Nurse Alan standing behind her and they seemed to be in some discussion.

Cat cleared her throat. 'Good morning, Jennifer. So, anything new I should know about my husband?'

Jennifer turned and smiled. 'It looks like I can finally get rid of him and passes on the responsibility to you, Cat. There are no signs of infection and the wound is healing well. I think it's time he went home, don't you?'

This was both the moment she'd been waiting for and the one that she dreaded. In the infirmary, he was safe and if anything went wrong there was someone on hand to help or if he had one if his 'funny moments' someone to reassure her that it was quite normal. And, she would need to have another difficult conversation with Mona. With John home, there was no way she could keep up the pretence about what their daughter felt, and she didn't want him to be more hurt than he already was by Mona's refusal to visit.

With a sigh, she lowered her shoulders and took a deep breath, then put on her shining 'John' face, forcing the smile that really didn't want to come. 'Right! Can I be the one to give him the good news?'

John was sitting on the bed, long legs stretched so that his feet dipped over the bottom. Not for the first time did Cat wonder why on earth they didn't make these beds long enough for anyone over standard height. On the couple of times she'd been to visit Ronon in the infirmary, he'd looked even more ridiculous and they'd eventually put a flat stool at the end of his bed to ease his discomfort. This morning, although there was a deep scowl across his forehead and he had his eyes firmly shut, she looked so much more like 'her' John. He'd made more of an effort with his hair and it was sticking up in its usual rebellious fashion, the only flattened piece being the square dressing over his head wound. Yes, he was even thinner than usual, but sitting down he still looked stronger and fitter than a few days ago. She knew that standing up was a different matter and that was when his frailty most showed and most annoyed him. She also knew that he wasn't really asleep and suspected that this would be a day to tiptoe carefully around his moods.

'Good morning, sweetheart,' she said, moving to his right hand side and leaning forward to kiss him gently on the lips.

Reluctantly, his eyes flickered open and momentarily there was a familiar look of attraction for her before he shut it away and it was replaced by the usual neutral expression that the hazel eyes wore these days and the brow furrowed even further.

She took another breath. 'I have good news. Jennifer says you can go home. If you want, we can organise it for later on today? Isn't that great?'

The forehead smoothed slightly and again there was a glimmer of something in his eyes, but what he felt was expressed more evidently in the simple exclamation, 'thank God!.' She smiled into his eyes and gently stroked his arm. 'I'll be back later. Just need to make sure the old place is ready for you. I...I can't wait for you to be home. Mona and I will cook you a lovely dinner and we'll have a private celebration tonight. I'm sure there will be others who'll want to join in later, but this one's for us.' At the mention of Mona, the frown returned in force and he shut her eyes to her again. 'Okay, sweetie, I'll be back this afternoon.' And she leant forward again and kissed his brow.

John watched as his wife left the room. Why did he find it so difficult to open up to her? When she was near him he still felt the astonishing attraction for her that he had always, but it was like there was a barrier that was stopping him expressing it. Painfully, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. There next to him waited the walking frame that he had to use to even cross to the bathroom. But not today. Today he would walk out of the infirmary unaided and show everyone that Colonel John Sheppard was back, even though he needed some convincing of that fact himself. To stand he had to turn around and put both hands on the bed, then push himself carefully upright, but this time he didn't collect the frame, but shuffled to the end of the bed without it. Instantly, Alan was at his shoulder.

'Um, Colonel, what do you think you are doing?'

John frowned at the young nurse. 'What does it look like I'm doing? Going for my morning run? I am not walking out of this place today with that stupid frame. Let me go.' The last words were definitely an order, even if the steely stare didn't tell him, and Alan automatically pulled back. In any case, determination was just what his patient needed to recover. With painful slowness, John put one tentative foot in front of him and began to walk across the room, with Alan just inches behind, ready to catch if necessary. By the time he had traversed the five metres or so to the bathroom, he was pale and sweating with the exertion and had to lean against the wall to recover, but the look of sheer, almost childish, delight on his face as he turned to his nurse told him everything. Yes, physically John Sheppard would recover and that would, at least, give the rest of him a chance.

Back in their quarters, Cat was having battles of her own. She was determined to talk to Mona and equally determined that his daughter would be home to welcome him. They were sitting on the little girl's bed, Mona turned towards her but looking firmly over her shoulder or above her head, anywhere but making eye contact. 'Listen to me carefully, Mona. This is very, very important. Dada's coming home today and he needs you to be here when he does and he needs you to help me look after him.' Silence. 'He is a lot better since you saw him, you know. He's even beaten Uncle Rodney at chess again!' More silence. Perhaps this needed a slightly different route. How much their daughter knew about her 'special' abilities she didn't know; for goodness sake, how much did they know? 'I think that dada needs you to help him more than that, sweetie. I think that you need to help dada to heal in a way that I can't.' A little shift of the head. 'Do you remember when you helped me when I was very sick and you helped me to remember things?' This time Mona's eyes darted to Cat's and met them. There, to Cat's surprise, was not just a remembrance but also fear: it had never occurred to Cat that she might actually be frightened by whatever this strange power was she possessed. 'Sweetie, it's alright. I know it's scary, but I'll be here and I'm sure you want dada back the way he was before?' In front of her, her strong and determined daughter crumpled and began to sob, tears that she'd held in since John's return home. And then, as well as she could, she told her mother about how she'd sensed that John was not himself and how frightened she'd been by that and how awful it had been to see him pinned out in the ICU and how terrible she'd felt about not seeing him and about how much she missed him and, finally, about how she would do everything she could to help dada be himself again. For some time, the two hugged each other for mutual comfort, before they, almost as one, straightened and gave each other the look that in the future would become known as the look of the Sheppard women: the one that said, 'right then, to business, and let no-one get in our way!'

The morning passed with tedious monotony and slowness as John readied himself to go home. Inside, he was a bundle of childish excitement, but a series of checks and visitations had somewhat dampened the mood. Psychiatrists, nurses, doctors, Rodney's hyperactivity, Ronon's loyal but today irritating silences, Teyla's care and sensitivity, Jennifer's attempt at silly jokes and Woolsey's form filling and protocols had all served to bring back the moody frown to his face. All were in the way of the one thing he wanted most: home and his family. In his head, he had carefully visualised his return: the door opening into their quarters, welcome banners across the wall and his little girl jumping enthusiastically into his arms. Cat had been back briefly with a bundle of clothes, which turned out to be his black uniform. She had known instinctively that he needed to leave this place as military commander and that the uniform would give him the extra strength he needed. Whether he could walk all the way to the nearest transporter was another matter and Alan had promised to be at his shoulder to give him a hand if necessary. Behind him would be Ronon, ready to leap forward to help: he was already feeling rather put out that the young nurse had 'taken his place' as his friend's prospective prop and support. Rodney and Teyla had insisted that they were there too, to witness the 'great event' as Rodney had snarked, but at the other end, beyond the transporter it would be just he and Cat.

Eventually, after his final so-called meal, again mostly consumed by Rodney McKay who talked incessantly through eating it about how he shouldn't really be because John needed the sustenance, but if it was going to go to waste then it was a shame to let it, the time came to go home. He stood up carefully and straightened the pressed uniform, revelling in its crispness which was so much a contrast to the soft t-shirts and sweat pants he'd been wearing, and moved his toes around inside the shiny but worn military boots. He smiled as he did, which caused Rodney to look at him quizzically, but John didn't think that Rodney McKay would understand if he told him that the familiar dents and ridges in those boots made him feel more like himself than anything yet.

Cat stood by her husband and took it all in. She registered the slight smile and knew why. She understood the power of his uniform. And she smiled herself, a smile that remained so stuck to her face that it hurt, but not in a bad way: this one wasn't the forced smile of the hospital visitor but of the loving wife who was finally seeing some tangible evidence of her husband's recovery. Then slowly, the little train headed out of the infirmary, Alan and Ronon both ready to leap to John's help if needed, and walked slowly to the transporter. Although, they'd requested that people kept away to avoid crowding John, some were there on their own business and each one smiled and saluted him as he passed.

Once the transporter doors closed and re-opened on their level, he allowed her to take his arm, and she proudly walked next to him, knowing the effort it was taking. The tension emanating from him was palpable and inwardly Cat crossed everything that Mona would be as good as her word. They paused before the door. She felt him take a deep breath and letting go of her arm, stand up straight. Then, the doors opened and there was Mona, in her best blue dress, green eyes shining with expectation. There was a moment's pause and then John put his arms out to his daughter, who ran over to him and wrapped both arms around his legs, quivering with emotion. Cat glanced down and met Mona's eye. Oh, yes, there was more there than 'glad to have dada back'. There was doubt and fear too, but John didn't seem to have noticed. Gently, she touched his arm and he looked in her direction, eyes bright with tears of joy and relief and guided the two of them to the sofa where they sat for some time, silently holding each other, neither having the right words to express how much or what they were feeling.

Cat busied herself with preparing the meal. Her roast dinners were famous across the city and the idea of the three of them sitting down to such a normal event seemed right. What John, no what they all needed now, was normal, usual and routine. She had demons of her own to deal with too and had a nasty feeling that they would need to be faced fairly soon. All her energies had been spent in John's recovery but sometimes images of Dane's body floating face up in the ocean came back to haunt her, as did the death of Janet Donaldson. She couldn't escape the feeling that this was all her fault; that she should have been more generous to Dane. But, going too far down that road was dangerous especially because it would make her ultimately responsible for not just two deaths but the awful injury suffered by the man she loved more than anyone or anything in the universe.

A sound behind her brought her back to the moment. 'Mama? Are you alright? Dada is sleeping. '

Cat turned to her daughter and tried to put on a smile that she knew was pointless. Mona could see through any attempt at pretence. Still, she cleared her throat nervously, 'and, how is dada?'

'Dada is very upset. He does not feel like dada. He doesn't want to tell us because it would upset us too.' Mona paused. 'I can help. We can help him, mama.'

The grown up look in her daughter's eyes shocked Cat. It was as though she were the child being comforted by the adult, not the other way round. Slowly she walked over to her and knelt down, placing her hands on Mona's shoulders. 'What can we do, sweetie? What can I do?'

Instead of speaking, Mona shrugged off Cat's hands and took one of them in her smaller one. With a look she guided Cat back into the other room and towards John, who was sleeping on the large sofa, the one they'd bought not long after they married for those important sofa moments, head leaning back and face frown free. For the first time in days, he looked more like her John and, as ever, the years fell from him as the cares and responsibilities slipped off in sleep. His chest was gently rising and falling and Cat caught her breath: she remembered that last moment just as they were rescued when that chest had no breath left in it and she thought he was dead. She had a feeling that there would be many occasions in the future where she woke next to him, just to check that there was still that movement there.

Mona continued to guide her to John, then letting go of Cat's hand, knelt down in front of him, showing Cat with her eyes that she should do the same. Cat watched her daughter in what appeared to be slow motion, as she put one hand in John's right one. The she took Cat's left hand. Cat just 'knew' what to do next. Taking Mona's hand, she grasped his other hand to form a chain between them and shut her eyes. Behind her eyes, was a swirling whirlpool shimmering blue and green, building and gyrating, flashing with reflected light from some unseen source, until it became the centre of her; she was swirling maelstrom; she was water and wind, ocean and air; heat began to build inside her and she could feel warm vibrations running through her. Despite a growing nausea, it wasn't an entirely unpleasant sensation: it just felt right. And then, inside her, in front of her, she wasn't sure, she saw, or maybe she just felt, Mona and John and she understood. She felt him slowly shift from the stranger with a head injury to the man who knew who he was, who she loved. There was nothing to 'see', but later she described it as watching two blurred images of John conjoining and uniting to make one clear and strong one, for the want of having any other way to explain what had happened. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, she opened her eyes and looked into John's. This time there was more. Not just a man trying to find himself. Not someone who was putting on a brave face, but that strength that was all his. The eyes flashed green as she met them as though the self was settling back into its home. Next to her, Mona was quivering, but smiling tearfully at her father and Cat felt through her daughter the absolute knowledge that John was back.

The three sat in a huddle for some time, unspeaking. And, they would say little more about what had happened in the future, none of them having the kind of character that spoke about things that mattered deeply. After a while, Cat simply stood up and said, 'well, I suppose I'd better check on dinner, don't you?'

And after the meal and after Mona had gone to bed, much more gratefully and peacefully than usual, John and Cat went to bed. For a long time, they lay next to each other, staring at each other, holding each other. Then slowly and gently, they moved together, this time finding a physical connection, their bodies fitting together in the way that happens when couples have been together for some time. John fell asleep in her arms and she looked down at the tousled head of dark hair and smiled. She felt the warmth of his breath on her breasts and the heaviness of his arm across her belly. And finally, she allowed herself to sleep, one that didn't have dreams of dead bodies and deep water. At least, not for now.

***

On a distant planet, unseen, a small device lit up, glowing then flashing green in the darkness. Energised, it seemed to make a small humming sound before it silenced once more.

_**So, John's on the road to recovery, but there are some loose ends to tie up, some funerals to have and some East Pier scenes to describe, as well as the small matter of the mysterious device! Please R & R if you want more.**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Thanks to my lovely reviewers. It's your input that encourages me to continue. I am sorry this has taken me such a long time to update. RL and all!! This is something a little different and I hope you enjoy it. **_

**The Richard Woolsey Diaries**

The day hadn't started well, but then they rarely did. Not a man naturally endowed with patience, even his morning shower had conspired to darken his mood, malfunctioning half way through so that the water turned from pleasantly tepid to icy cold in a nanosecond. He had leapt from it with a pained yelp, soap still clinging rebelliously to his skin and balding head.

'Great!' he simply exclaimed out loud, before grabbing the nearest towel which turned out, when he had cleared the soap from his eyes, to be the one he used after shaving. He scowled. Everything in Woolsey World had to be neat, orderly and precise; each towel set in its proper place for its proper purpose. Cursing again, he grabbed his pristine blue bath robe and set about trying to shave in water that now had decided to become scalding. He would really have to have a word with Rodney McKay if, indeed, the good doctor was not the one responsible for these little 'accidents'. Richard Woolsey had a persistent nagging suspicion that he was still, after all this time, a target for McKay's bored moments.

Even with all the water problems, he still managed to leave his quarters at precisely six and a half minutes to eight, checking his watch and nodding in approval as he did. Everything in its place: everything at the right time. That was his motto. His morning walk to the canteen was peppered with silent nods and greetings to those he passed. Some would be smiling, no doubt their own morning routine confirmed by his presence, others half-saluted in more formal greeting. He hadn't made what many people would consider 'friends' while in the city, but for Woolsey he had more people here that he cared about than ever before in his life. However, it still surprised him when people were pleased to see him, or when they responded to him in such a way that actually suggested that they liked him. He hadn't had that before.

Chief Maria Johnson-Burt (and that still sounded odd to the ears, Maria and Harry Burt, the city's resident barman, now married) saw him arrive and instantly nodded a command to her deputy. Within two minutes, buttered toast and soft boiled egg had been placed on his usual table, the small round one by the balcony, along with a small pot of perfectly brewed Earl Grey tea and a slice of lemon. He thanked her and quietly ate his usual breakfast, gazing out to the ocean more in an attempt to subvert any association with the other residents than in an appreciation for its beauty although, he had to admit, it was a fairly striking sight this morning, a golden glow shimmering across the surface of the water, delicately touching the skirts of the city.

No, today hadn't started well and it he didn't suppose it would improve. Today was a day of posting the last messages to the families of those who'd lost their lives in the recent Genii attack, sadly two more had died yesterday of their wounds, and of funerals, most especially of Janet Donaldson. Her funeral had been delayed so that Colonel and Doctor Sheppard could both attend and was the most senior of all those that had taken place. There was the added complication of the Athosian ceremony too, the location and content of which had taken some negotiation. Teyla had wanted the full cremation thing, but they had to send Janet's body back through the gate so that she could have a family ceremony back on Earth. In the end, a compromise had been found and there would be a small civil ceremony, followed by Teyla and the Athosians singing their funeral rites as the coffin was despatched through the gate.

At least there was one bright spark to light up the gathering gloom of the day: the return of his military commander to some kind of public duty. Admittedly, John Sheppard was not fit enough to take back full command of the city, but after a week or two of light duties and simple routine tasks, he was to be present at the funeral today and would give the eulogy. Woolsey didn't mind admitting that he needed the man's experience in command and his ability to think outside of the box. Lorne was a commendable substitute, but not a man with imagination or flair. And that reminded him: checking his watch again (yes, it was now 8:25) he put his crockery and cutlery carefully back on the tray and stood up, pushing in his chair neatly before leaving. He didn't see Maria's affectionate smirk as he left.

'Good morning, Mr Woolsey,' a female voice called from behind. He stopped and turned and was met with the smiling blue eyes of Catherine Sheppard. Damn it! Why did she always do that to him when caught off guard? He harboured a bit of a 'thing' for the pretty doctor and she could, if he was unprepared, turn his legs to jelly and tie his tongue so that he spent much of his time around her stuttering like an idiot. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

'Good morning, Doctor Sheppard!' Now, that wasn't too bad. 'How are you and the Colonel today?'

She smiled again, but this time he was ready for the attack and felt his legs solidifying, his feet more firmly sensing the ground beneath them. 'We are well although we could do without today. It's a sad day for the city, isn't it? Has the Athosian delegation arrived yet?' Halling was making a rare visit to the city in honour of Janet and her bravery to the last, saving Teyla and the children.

'I'm on my way to the gate room, now, Doctor. They are expected shortly.' It irritated him that The Athosians couldn't arrive at a particular time, even though he knew logically that their clock was different to Earth's and their imperatives slightly different. An Athosian promise to arrive in time for the funeral meant sometime this morning. 'Will you join me?'

Catherine smiled again. 'No. I must get back to John and Mona. He's fussing about his dress uniform and worrying about remembering his words.' He noticed a slight break in the smile, a small crack in her usual calm.

'Don't worry, Catherine,' he said more softly this time. 'I'm sure he'll be fine. In my experience, the adrenalin and nerves will help him to rise to the occasion.' He noticed the look on her face as she turned to leave and frowned in puzzlement: as a man who lived on the surface of the literal plane, the failing attempt to bury the giggle at the thought of John and rising wasn't something he could recognise.

Sighing, he turned back towards the command centre, glancing anxiously at his watch as he did, frowning and picking up the pace to fast little steps, which to the observer was dangerously close to mincing, as he realised he might be a minute or so late this morning. He had meant to ask Catherine Sheppard about her investigations into what The Genii had taken. It had been a frustrating task, so many artefacts destroyed, and it was a little like trying to find a needle in a hay stack. Still, if anyone could find it, she could.

In the gate room the cleaners were still doing their morning polish as he arrived and he breathed a sigh of relief, which was rather too loud and caused Chuck to glance at him curiously.

'Good morning, Chuck,' he said. 'Anything exciting happen overnight that I should know about?'

The small technician responded with his usual unreadable expression. Woolsey was frequently convinced that he could well be mocking him behind it, but had absolutely no evidence to prove his theory. 'No, sir. Doctor McKay reports some early morning issues with the water heating system, but apart from that nothing unusual.'

Was that a knowing smile flitting across the man's face? He peered a little closer but the hint of a glimmer of it had passed and shrugging his shoulders, turned to face the pile of papers on his desk.

It was about an hour into his work that he heard the familiar sound of the gate activating and Chuck's announcement that someone was on their way. A few moments later, The Athosian party walked through the shimmering blue ring. At its head was the tall figure of Halling, now grey but still holding that threat of danger and alongside him a young man of about twenty or so, a head shorter than his father, but looking his equal in 'not to be messed with'. Woolsey walked forward and held out his hand to the Athosian leader who took it, willingly.

'Welcome, Halling and,' he turned to the younger man,' Jinto. I am pleased to see you.'

'As are we,' Halling replied, 'although it is a pity that we only visit Atlantis these days for weddings and funerals.'

Woolsey was about to respond when he was pushed out of the way with the arrival of Teyla and the tumult of affectionate greetings between her and her people. Behind her and slightly shyly stood Torren, now becoming quite the young man. At seven years old, he was already tall for his age, with jet black hair like his father and skin honey-coloured after his mother. And then, he too was enveloped in the warm embraces. Again, Richard Woolsey reflected upon his lot to always be on the outside, as he turned and walked back up the stairs to carry on with what he had been doing. The messages home had been sent and now all he had to do was tidy up the last bits of paperwork for this afternoon's funeral and check with Stargate Command that they were ready at their end to receive the coffin and the ongoing transport to Janet's home. The Apollo was currently in orbit around Earth and hopefully ready to transport the funeral party.

The funeral was due to start at 2pm and Woolsey made sure he was ready well before that. He'd taken some time to decide what to wear, not being military or having a 'dress' uniform as such, and had plumped for his best dark suit and black tie. The crisp white shirt was currently cutting uncomfortably, but somehow reassuringly, into his neck and he put a single finger in to try to loosen it a little. Various people were gathering in the control room, chairs having been placed in mock pew fashion with an 'aisle' that led to the gate. He took a moment to look down on the gathering scene then slowly descended the stairs, straightening his jacket as he did.

A noise to his left signalled someone's arrival and he turned and smiled. Colonel John Sheppard and his wife had arrived. John Sheppard was wearing his blue dress uniform with an array of glimmering medals across its chest and didn't look exactly comfortable in it, but the look on his wife's face as she stood next to him said much. She was almost glowing with pride and not, Woolsey conjectured, just because, although he hated to admit it and would never say it out loud, her husband looked remarkable handsome in the uniform, but that he looked so much like his old self. The Colonel was a man of many parts and many characters and Woolsey had learned a lot about the 'real' John Sheppard in the last years; he recognised the confident, relaxed expression with the possibility of sudden humour or equally sudden moodiness as evidence that the mercurial man was close to being back to full health. Not only that, but the Colonel's presence also had an effect on everyone else and the atmosphere in the room began to relax a little, even given the sadness of the upcoming occasion.

John gave a slight smile and walked towards him, gently releasing himself from the security of his wife's grasp. It was only then that Richard Woolsey detected the slight but perceptible shakiness in his step and a pallor that spoke of the effort he was making.

'Good afternoon, Mr Woolsey,' he said.

'Good afternoon, Colonel,' Woolsey replied. 'It is good to see you looking so well. Are you ready to give the eulogy?'

'Yes, but as you know, public speaking is not exactly my forte,' John replied.

Woolsey gave him a small, and what he hoped was a, smile of encouragement and then settled back onto his heels again, allowing the couple to meet and greet the gathering audience. Where he was awkward in company, Sheppard was at ease and comfortable with people and they, in turn, liked him. And Mrs Sheppard amply complemented him, chatting naturally to some of the Athosians, but all the while keeping a protective eye on her husband. Gradually, the place filled until all the seats were taken and most available space. The dark and looming shape of Ronon appeared through the doorway, taking up his usual place beside Sheppard, but not before giving him a beefy 'pat' in the back which nearly sent the smaller man reeling; Rodney and Katie arrived and he took his regular place on John's other side, rapidly followed by Teyla. Katie McKay and Catherine hung back chatting quietly. Thank God, though Woolsey. It was as though the ground, which had felt so insecure for weeks, had been re-secured again at the foundations.

Chuck gave the silent signal from his right and suddenly quiet descended on the room. The military stood to attention and the civilians stood tall and watched the small procession make its way to the front of the congregation. Then Colonel John Sheppard walked slowly to the front and turned. Woolsey saw him hesitate and look towards his wife who smiled and nodded back in encouragement, and then he began.

''It is never easy to say goodbye to dear friends and respected colleagues and Janet Donaldson was both of those to me, my family and to many here in the city. She was not only an excellent archivist and historian, she was also intelligent, witty and very brave. She died protecting our children and serving the city that had she had grown to love. She gave her life without a thought; she fought with no selfish regard for her own welfare. She will be greatly missed by us all.'' Here he paused and for a brief moment he seemed to falter. Woolsey saw Catherine move a little towards him before he stood straight again and continued. ''Please join together to sing her praises and send her honoured soul to The Ancestors.'

This was the signal for The Athosians to move forward. At their head Teyla stood, and sang with that sweet voice which echoed mournfully through the stilled corridors of the city. As she sung, the gate began to turn, and the blue whoosh as it opened seemed to play a chorus to the song and then the small funeral party collected up the coffin and disappeared through the gate. At the other end, there would be dignitaries who would manage the tricky business of liaising with the family.

And then, as quickly as it had started, it was over. Within minutes, the room was clear of seats and people, except for those who needed to work and Atlantis' first team. He watched as John Sheppard lowered his forehead to Teyla's, comforting her in her grief for the loss of a friend, and then to Halling and Jinto, with an extra pat on the shoulder for the young man and a whispered something which Woolsey suspected had something to do with a visit and Athosian wine. He almost forced his feet forward to say the official farewells, hating the thought of breaking into the group but was pleasantly surprised when they turned towards him and even more surprised when Halling offered the Athosian the salute.

Then, they were gone too.

Not sure what to do next, he began to move away, excluding himself once again from the warmth of inclusion. As he did, he heard and rather wished he hadn't Catherine Sheppard whisper in her husband's ear.

'And remember, my sweet. We have a date tonight. Same time: same place. Oh and don't you dare take off that uniform – not yet, in any case.'

'And that's just too much information,' he thought as he blushed and turned back to his office.

_**Now, I know what you're thinking?? What about that East Pier scene and the mysterious device? Well, next time, I promise. I needed to tie up some loose ends and also like d the idea of seeing events through a different perspective. Please R and R...you know I like it!**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Thanks to all my lovely reviewers. Well, here it is. I've teased you long enough. Not the end of the story, but 'that' scene. As usual rated 'T' for some adult themes.**_

Cat felt like a giddy teenager again. It can't be bad, she thought, to still get a tingle of delicious excitement when standing next to John. The dress uniform had helped, of course, but only because it had sparked lusty imaginations of a starlit night on the East Pier. Unlike many of the females in the city, who looked at him with undisguised admiration in any case but it was even worse when he was wearing what he was today, she didn't have a particular 'thing' for men in uniform. In fact, and she almost made herself laugh out loud to this, it was men out of uniform that she preferred. His strength today, his natural charm in company and the place he had carved out with so much difficulty for himself here in Atlantis all added to the attraction she felt, which was so physical it made her ache from somewhere deep inside her. That he just happened to be good looking too was definitely a bonus, though! Again, she smiled to herself, glad of the opportunity to find some humour and lightness after everything that had happened.

And the pier looked beautiful tonight. The warm winds were swirling gently, as though ready to caress the two of them in a welcoming embrace and the moons glinted randomly off metallic edges, lighting up the scene that she'd so carefully planned. She wanted it to be perfect. He deserved it and so did she. The little table was set, just away from the view of prying eyes. A crisp white tablecloth set with two gold edged plates, two glasses and a wine cooler in which Harry Burt's best champagne was sitting and a large silver dome covering their food; a silver candelabra glistening with lit candles quietly fluttering in the breeze.

Cat took a moment to check everything was just right and then turned towards the ocean, breathing gently as she took in the sweet air that murmured across the water. Water, she thought, had delivered some of the best and worst. Here, with the moonlit ripples, it seemed benevolent and generous. On other occasions, even in the waters around the city, it had been dangerous and frightening, especially when David had tried to kill her. John had been there to soothe her, to nurse her and to love her and it was her turn now to care for him. No. It wasn't as simple as that. This was about mutual healing. This was to be the last piece of the jigsaw that would make whole the picture of their life together. She still felt deeply the trauma of events back on the mainland, the image of Dane's body underneath the water very near the surface and threatening to bob to the top if she stopped trying to push it back to the depths but she now knew that the time was close when she could forget.

She heard a noise behind her as someone entered the pier and cleared his throat to attract her attention and she turned and she smiled at her husband. The dress uniform still looked crisp and sharp, but the hair had escaped its earlier boundaries and was making a break for freedom on one side. And he was smiling back. Oh yes, he needed this even more than she and she was absolutely determined to make the evening special. The McKays, Ronon and Amelia and Teyla were all sharing babysitting duty and she silently thanked them, yet again, for giving her a little breathing space away from her demanding daughter. But now wasn't the time to think about Mona or other responsibilities.

'Good evening, Colonel,' she said, as formerly as possible, trying to reduce the smile that threatened to develop into a broad beam, 'Please, would you sit down at the table.' Her 'persona' for the evening, she'd decided, was some sort of military wife from Colonial India, dressed in a tea-dress and stilettos. Her hair was pinned back and smoothed into place, thanks to Teyla, and she'd been most careful to select underwear that matched the general era. He might have a few surprises there, she inwardly grinned. As gracefully as she could, given lack of practice, she tottered over to him and took his arm, guiding him to the little table where the food was already set. Under the silver dome was one of Maria's best curries, not too hot but fruity, and some Indian bread.

John sat down and raised an amused eyebrow at his wife. It was typical of Cat to prepare so elaborately and carefully. The little note on his pillow this morning had been a more formal invitation than usual, the gilt edges of the card matching the table cloth and he excitedly leant forward and straightened the matching name card by his plate. He knew that the meal and the formalities were just an appetiser for the rest of the night. This time, though, he wasn't intending to let her have all her own way. He too understood the healing power of their 'dates' on the pier. So, without needing to be asked, he stood up and retrieved the champagne from the cooler, deftly popping the cork and pouring out the drink. What many of his acquaintances or men under his command didn't know was that one of the few benefits from his privileged background was the ability to do such tasks with ease and they were often surprised when, for example, their colonel knew how to prepare a cigar or pass the port!

Cat made eye contact with her husband as they clinked glasses in silent recognition of the moment. Inside, her stomach lurched with the inward, but entirely pleasurable, ache she always felt when looking at him which was a complex sensation bound up with love, lust, desire, passion and attraction. Without speaking, she served the food and they ate silently, allowing the air to soothe and calm their troubles. But the feelings beneath the tranquil surface threatened to burst out at frequent intervals and she was having an increasingly difficult time holding them in. So, with forced slowness, they finished their meal, every watched mouthful becoming more of a torment to each until finally they had wiped every bit clean from their plates and drank every last drop of champagne.

And, as the light from the moons dimmed slightly, a few wispy clouds drifting across the sky, Cat decided enough was enough. She pushed her chair back, and walked over to his side of the table, all the time keeping contact with his darkening hazel eyes, deciding to kick off her shoes as she did despite the slight look of regret on his face which was soon wiped away as she straddled his knees and put her hands behind his long neck, stroking the little spot at the back that she knew was very sensitive. Then she deliberately loosened his tie and slid it off, letting it drop to the floor, before methodically undoing each of his shirt buttons, delighting in the slow revelation of flesh as she did. She could feel his breathing quickening and he seemed to be about to say something, but she put a single finger over his lips and pushed the blue dress jacket off his shoulders, along with the shirt, allowing both hands to caress and stroke his chest, enjoying the smooth firmness under her fingers.

'John?' she let slip as his hands began to move up her dress towards the 'special' undergarments she was wearing. Maria had turned out to be a bit of a dark horse and her 1950's lingerie catalogue had been the source that sparked Cat's imagination this evening. He smiled lustfully as he found the stiffened bottomless girdle she was wearing and even more so when he realised that she wasn't wearing any other bottoms before testing out what was happening further up. Cat was proud of her full breasts and the wired bra complimented them perfectly. And then, the buttons on the back of her dress were being slowly undone, though she could feel his hands shaking through the fabric, and the dress was pulled up and over her head, revealing her full Dita Von Teesesque attire. He buried his face in her breasts and she thought she heard him say 'you're so beautiful' and then she undid the military belt buckle and unbuttoned the stiff trousers.

It was at this moment that John decided he'd reached the 'my turn' moment. Deftly, he pushed her to standing in front of him and then stood up slowly allowing his gaze to run up her body. She in turn watched his clothes descend to the floor and somehow the shoes came off too. He must have found a moment to loosen them when sitting. 'You are beautiful too,' she purred and really, really meant it. John didn't have a muscle or hair in the wrong place and heading towards his fiftieth year was even more firm and taught than ever, youthful softness having been replaced by a body honed through years of work and exercise. Okay, maybe he had to work a little harder at it these days, but she'd keep his secret if this was the outcome. He leant forward and kissed her with unguarded passion before picking her up in his arms, seemingly forgetting any weakness that he'd felt earlier in the day, and carrying her over to their corner where he knew she would have prepared a makeshift bed, settling her down firmly and standing back to enjoy what he was seeing.

And then he took her, with passion and desire almost overflowing and as he did, he felt his troubles, his pains, his worries, washed from him. They became one in a way which neither had ever felt before and at the moment of climax it was as though a caressing pink light enveloped them, growing before finally exploding in kaleidoscopic lights.

Afterwards, neither able to talk, they sank into a warm sleep. John wrapped Cat in his arms and in the Athosian quilts and fell into a deep and restful sleep; the couple were watched over by the city who dimmed her lights on the pier and sent gentle vibrations through the floor, a physical manifestation of her pleasure in their pleasure.

But, Atlantis wasn't the only ancient creation that reacted to their lovemaking. On a planet, in a locked room, a man in a green uniform watched excitedly as the little artefact taken from the city of the Ancestors glowed pink and seemed to grow a little more in power and he smiled. 'It begins.'

_**Now, I know that's a little shorter than my usual chapters, but I didn't want to do have much more here than the scene itself, apart from the teaser at the end which leads into the next bit of the story. Do hope you liked it and please R & R.**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**The penultimate chapter. We're heading towards the end of the journey. Thanks as ever for all my reviewers and your kind comments.**_

The Archives room was still a mess and Cat didn't suppose it would back to normal for some time. Finding what was missing was the hardest task of all, because Janet had a pile of artefacts, documents and other miscellaneous items ready to catalogue, but she now at least had four lists: one for definitely missing, one for definitely broken and irreparable, one for broken and mendable and lastly the 'could be missing but might still be somewhere' list. She'd interviewed all the soldiers and scientists who had accompanied Janet on recent missions and added their information to the pot as well. The Ancient database was a little help too, cross-referencing likely targets for The Genii and while it was true to say that you could never entirely judge what was of value and what wasn't, a wooden plate from a distant and long extinct settlement was likely to be of less importance than a silver and platinum amulet with possible Ancient purpose. And they had to be small enough to be carried and hidden under a jacket.

So, she had ended up with a fifth list of five likely objects. One was a small necklace with a purple stone looking, as John described it, like one of those old fashioned pear-drops you used to be able to buy from big glass jars in dusty sweet shops. There was a small vase, a sketch of it drawn by Janet, made out of a metal even golder than gold, with small droplet shaped stones in red, blue and green around its rim and two interesting looking twin rings which had been found in different locations but remarkably had been found to interlock and glow as they did. All were possible, but the last was for Cat the most likely and the most worrying: a square box, about 10cm across, made out of a silvery-pewter- like metal with raised Ancient writing and symbols on each side. Janet's notes and drawings were thankfully very detailed and she had also committed the object to the virtual world so that it was as good as having the real thing, except that it had no power of course. There was something in the Ancient that caught her attention. Not an expert by any means, she had some knowledge and she would need to have it translated more accurately but she could clearly make out the word 'time' on each surface.

She immediately contacted Evan Lorne on her radio. 'Major? Could you do me a favour please? Can I have the footage from the camera in the gate room of the moment The Genii left the city? I just want to have another look at what that soldier was carrying.'

He did better than just download the feed, coming himself to the Archives room, never one even now not to take advantage of the opportunity to spend some time alone with Cat. He'd harboured a rather strong crush for many years and would certainly protect her with his life if the occasion arose. They managed between them to freeze and enlarge the moment of the small glimpse of the artefact and there it was. Yes, there was the tell-tale corner of a silvery box. Immediately, Lorne radioed John who ran down to the room, smiled proudly at Cat and patted her on the arm then clicked his radio. 'Mr Woolsey? I think we've identified the object.'

So, in an attempt to find out more, Richard Woolsey immediately put in a request for the one person who they could rely on to translate Ancient. In fact, Daniel Jackson was possibly the Universe-wide expert, excluding the handful of Ancients who occasionally decided to show themselves, and at this moment an excited group were waiting for him to arrive through the gate, not least Rodney, who still feigned resentment for the affable Doctor, while genuinely looking forward to his company.

John stood silently and in relaxed attention next to Cat. Last time he had visited them, when they were attacked by the renegade Asgaard, Daniel turned out to be as much a trouble magnet as Rodney and he found their competitive bickering tiring and irritating, but he had great respect for the man who had re-discovered the Stargate and who was hard not to like. He just hoped that Rodney would temper his snarkiness and, concerned as a friend too, that he wouldn't burn himself out in his attempt to win the intelligence battle. Last time, Rodney had slept for several days after Daniel's departure. There was more though. His 'spidey' sense was in overdrive. Logic of course dictated that The Genii must consider the object to be of some value and use against Atlantis, and that was bad enough. No, he couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he would lay a level bet that it was something to do with the Ancient gene and that meant his family could once again be in the firing line. He glanced sideways at Cat and met an equally worried expression in her eyes. Oh yes, they would need to take great care with this one.

His uncomfortable reverie was broken by the sound of the gate's symbols encoding and Amelia's announcement of the off-world activation. Minutes later, Doctor Daniel Jackson strode through the gate, welcomed them all warmly and then, as was his wont, in a blink of an eye he was off down the corridor towards the Archives room, Rodney breathlessly in tow.

Impatiently, they awaited some news from the two scientists. Every now and then, when someone walked past their door, the sound of rapid 'gun-fire' talking could be heard: the two of them using up more words in the space of a minute than Ronon probably used in a lifetime. Eventually, after a tense couple of days, they emerged, triumphant but concerned, and called a meeting with Atlantis' important people.

So, now, in the conference room, those people were set around the large mahogany table. John was leaning back, feigning calm and relaxation, a coffee as ever in one hand and a long leg tipped with a booted foot resting on the table. Next to him sat Cat, here in her capacity as ex-archivist and ancient gene holder. She was less calm. There were words on the box that worried her, some of which she'd worked out for herself since Daniel's arrival: past, present and future. She just hoped that they would have a clearer understanding of what they were facing in the next hour or so. Ronon and Teyla were also present: the top team always there for anything important to do with the safety and security of the city. He stood to the back of the small room, leaning against the wall, neither impatient nor expectant, at least on the surface. Teyla helped herself to a glass of water and nervously sat down on the other side of John.

The doors opened and the two doctors and Richard Woolsey appeared. It was clear from his face that he had still to be briefed on their findings. Certainly, the combined arrogance of Daniel Jackson and Rodney McKay would ensure that the circus that was to follow would be designed to enhance and show off the magnitude of their findings and the might of their combined and single intelligences and would, at times, be long-winded and combative. Cat felt John's arm tighten in irritation, a small twitch of his bicep which showed that the relaxed facade was just that.

Rodney fiddled with his laptop and the large hovering screen lit up with a blue flash and the briefest glimpse of his screensaver, a moving image from the original Batman series, complete with cartoon 'splat's and 'bang's, to be replaced by a large 3D image of the Ancient box, causing John to emit an amused snort which in turn made his friend glare in his direction. 'As you all know,' he began, pompously, 'Doctor Jackson and I,' here with a convivial sweep of his arm he introduced Daniel who glowered back, 'have been working tirelessly on decoding what this device is intended to do. So much so that I haven't really slept in two days and, as for eating, if I don't get a sit down meal soon my stomach is going to think it's cut off from my mouth let alone the danger of having a hypoglaecemic attack, which no-one,' here another and now pointed look at Daniel who raised his eyebrow to their audience as if to say "look what I have to put up with", 'seems to care about.' Rodney finished breathlessly and allowed silence to descend dramatically. John took a breath and was about to hurry him, no doubt with some snarky comment, but Rodney knew by now how long to pause before being berated or told off and continued.

'I have been working on what the object might actually be capable of. Doctor Jackson has translated the words and I, we, believe we have now solved the mystery of its purpose. So, without further ado, I pass you over to Doctor Daniel Jackson.' Here there was another dramatic and, no doubt well-practised in the mirror, sweep of the arm towards Daniel who let out an exasperated sigh.

'Thank you Doctor McKay for that full and helpful introduction.' Several anxious faces now looked in his direction. 'It took a while to translate the words correctly, although Doctor Sheppard was quite correct in that the word 'time' is a common factor on all six sides. It would seem that each represents a particular moment in time. In conjunction with the image it is possible to work out that there is one side that represents past time, one for the present and one for the future, but it was difficult to work out beyond that at first. It was only when I was able to translate this,' here he pointed at the screen which immediately enlarged one of the Latinate words,' which means 'change' and this,' pointing to another in the same way, ' which means 'alter' that it began to come together. And so, I was able to complete my translation literally. It made no real sense until I considered the difference in syntactical order and grammar of Ancient.' He stood back, as though expecting some kind of applause for his efforts and stopped talking.

Woolsey was the first to speak. 'And, what have you discovered, Doctor Jackson,' he said calmly, but through evidently gritted teeth. 'Doctor Jackson?' he prompted again.

'Oh yes, well, I think the best way is just to put up the translation.' Again he touched the screen and the Ancient magically metamorphosed into English.

In front of the small audience the box slowly spun, for each side of the cube a metallic and headless voice speaking the translation from somewhere inside the program.

_Side one translation of Ancient into Earth English commences:_

**All the time of the past comes to the worthy**

_Side two translation of Ancient into Earth English commences:_

**And in our goodness we will receive future time with gratitude**

_Side three translation of Ancient into Earth English commences:_

**Now in our present time past and future will combine in magnificence**

_Side four translation of Ancient into Earth English commences:_

**And when past, present and future time combine by the grace of The Ancestors**

_Side five translation of Ancient into Earth English commences:_

**By the power given to the chosen ones and their inheritors**

_Side six translation of Ancient into Earth English commences:_

**All will alter and change to erase the sins of our children and children's children**

A grim silence descended on the room, each trying to work out the ramifications of the message in front of them. Finally, Rodney spoke. 'This isn't, as Doctor Jackson has said, a word-for-word translation and it is possible that we have missed some of the nuances, but the gist is fairly clear I think. This device is supposed to change time, to alter it somehow. How far from the past or the future we can't say and we haven't been able to ascertain. It could be like the Omega 13, you know from Galaxy Quest, the device that turns back time by a few seconds?' Again he glanced at John, possibly the only other person in the room who understood his reference, though the snort from Ronon suggested that John had once again been introducing his friend to what he considered to be a 'classic'. 'That would make perfect sense as a weapon, which much of this Ancient technology seems to be designed for and would be a really good weapon if it works. I say 'if it works' because, as we know, The Ancients had something of a tendency to make mistakes and this one was buried in our vaults. We don't even know where it came from. But what is fairly clear is that it is somehow powered by The Ancient gene, or more especially that of 'the chosen one.' Here Rodney paused and looked anxiously towards John and Cat, seeing from the horrified looks in their faces that they knew exactly what he meant.

John felt Cat's hand move to his under the table and he squeezed it gently. 'You mean, Mona?'

'I think we have to assume that, Colonel,' grimaced Rodney. Since the little girl had been born, and even before, there had been something different, unusual, about her and her abduction a few years ago had confirmed that someone, somewhere, thought she could be quite useful. 'What we don't know is if the device needs to be powered by direct contact or remotely. It is odd that The Genii chose to steal it and not take Mona with them. That suggests either it can be powered from a distance or that they may come back for her. Either way, we need a plan.'

This was said in an 'over-to-you' tone of voice and all eyes turned to their military commander. The deep frown furrowing his eyebrow was evidence of his unease but he kept his eyes lowered. Cat knew why. She understood the worry and the fear that was flashing through his expressive eyes, the emotions that he didn't often let others see. Just as she understood that he would take his time, would come up with some sort of plan, would not let his daughter be taken again if he could help it. Underneath the table, their grasp strengthened in mutual support and understanding, unseen by the others around the table. Anyone who didn't know them would think them uncaring or unconcerned, but those closest, those in this room, knew better and also knew to leave the Colonel to methodically decide on a strategy. Even Richard Woolsey, who once upon a time would have pushed for a response, stayed silent.

After a few long minutes, he released his hold on her hand and looked up. 'Tell me, McKay? In your opinion if, and I say if, the device is triggered remotely, do you think that it is just Mona who has that capability and is this a case of a gradual build up of power or a one-shot?'

Rodney bit back a snarky comment: something about how in the Pegasus Galaxy should he know. He was, after all, being given the respect and trust from a long-time friend and colleague who valued his opinion. 'In my opinion? I believe that the fact that they took the device and not Mona implies that it is the gradual build option, like an energy pack being filled. And, that is very worrying. Do you remember how important those women thought Cat was? And, I do know though you never talk about It could be that every time you individually, or more powerfully together, experience one of your 'moments' that you fuel the device. What I can't say is how long it will take to fill the tank, so to speak.'

John frowned at no-one in particular and Richard Woolsey coughed awkwardly. 'Well, Colonel, it would seem that you and your family need to avoid getting into any dangerous or, ahem, exciting situations until we can find and destroy the device. We can't risk setting it off before we find it.'

Cat left the conference room with a deep sense of unease, determined to see her daughter as soon as possible, not really sure why other than the need for some kind of reassurance and comfort. Neither she nor John had ever fully told anyone what it felt like when the three of them combined but it now began to make sense: that the power they were able to channel to help each other was also afterwards in some way sucked from them; yes that was how it felt exactly. John and his team were left behind to formulate plans, come up with strategies, and she envied them that: it would occupy him especially and keep his mind off more personal worries.

Mona was old enough now to join Atlantis' little school. Most of the pupils, numbering about a dozen now, were about her age, Torren being the oldest. She was already proving to be very clever indeed, able to work out mathematical problems in a nanosecond and irritatingly good at creative writing and painting too. Unfortunately, her fiery personality meant that she had frequent clashes with the teacher, a certain Ms Rodriguez brought in from Earth especially. Once Stargate Command had grasped the direction Atlantis was moving, away from just a base and towards a settlement, they had immediately employed her. She was an old-fashioned lady, rather terrifying in her efficiency, but still no match for Mona with whom she frequently clashed and came out worse. In fact, Cat wondered whether the woman really had anything she could teach her child that Atlantis' database couldn't already. Torren, on the other hand, though quite astute, struggled more with reading and writing and as Cat arrived, his teacher was sitting with him helping him through a fairly simple geometrical puzzle.

'Ms Rodriguez?' asked Cat, concerned about the distinct absence of her daughter. 'Where's Mona?'

The little woman raised a tired eye. 'She finished her Maths for the day and wanted to go to the astrology lab. I thought that might keep her more occupied than I can do here.' This was concluded with a sigh and Cat wondered how long the poor woman would last here, the stress caused by Mona as a pupil clearly showing on her face and she simply thanked her with a smile and headed off towards the lab.

This was one of Mona's favourite places and Cat could clearly see why. Ancient screens glimmered bluely in all corners of the room lit up with stars and moons from across the galaxy, shimmering and fluttering with Ancient power. It had been built in the first hologram room found by them and in the middle stood the pedestal where the Ancient woman had told of The Wraith and her people's defeat. Rodney and his team had modified the systems so that a gene carrier could stand on it and watch the stars shimmer above them and around them at a thought. It was even possible to look at skies from different known galaxies from all different planetary perspectives. Mona was standing there now, a glittering array of stars shining around her and a beatific smile of pure pleasure on her face. With a thought, she shifted her perspective to a different place and the stars shifted and moved. Blues, greens and reds sparkled some sending out little shards of light towards the floor like phantom bolts of lightning. She was oblivious to everything else and Cat just stood back and watched, unwilling to disturb her or, to be honest, a rare moment of peace and calm in the little girl's life.

Suddenly Cat had a thought. 'Oh my God, I must see Rodney,' and rushed from the room.

The group were still huddled around the end of Woolsey's ridiculously large mahogany table when Cat rushed in and John looked up startled.

'What's up? ' he questioned, leaping up and taking her shoulders with his hands. 'What's the matter?'

Breathlessly Cat explained what she'd just seen. As she did, she could see growing realisation appear on John and Rodney's faces almost simultaneously. After years of working together, they were able to almost second guess each other and were probably the most effective 'team' in the Stargate program. Rodney's scientific and quick brain and John's natural problem solving intelligence had combined to an almost telepathic degree. To one side, Daniel Jackson looked on with amusement. The Rodney McKay he'd first met all those years ago was certainly a different man to the one he saw before him. Mind you, Daniel wasn't unused to strange friendships himself and it was rather wistfully that he saw the communication between the two.

It was Rodney who spoke first. 'So, if 'we can somehow 'tune-in' to the device via the Galaxy Program, for that's what he'd called his little adaptation to the holographic room, 'then we might just be able to track it.'

'Yes, but,' replied John, or was it continued, Cat was never sure,' we would need to activate the device in order to see it, wouldn't we? And that won't be easy given that we've never tried to work together in normal circumstances, if you see what I mean.'

'Yes, and we don't want to create a drama for you three to cope with to do this. It might be dangerous too, given that we don't know how much power is needed to activate it. We could risk doing the very thing we're trying to stop and then seeing where it is won't be much help.' Rodney paused for breath, a worried and triumphant look on his face causing a rather peculiar and manic expression.

There was a moment's pause as the others took in what had been said. Dawning understanding spread across Ronon's features and Richard Woolsey nodded his head and stood up. 'Well then, I don't see that we have much choice.'

All eyes turned to Rodney. He paused for a dramatic moment, then said, 'Okay, okay, I get it. And before you ask, I think I can do the modifications in a few hours with help.' He turned pointedly to Daniel who raised an eyebrow in mock surprise that his experience should be needed by his arrogant competitor. 'Doctor Jackson?' Daniel smiled and nodded his head and the two set off, the larger man running ahead with Rodney panting behind, desperate to keep up.

'Well then,' said Woolsey grimly. 'Tomorrow it is.'

That night, in bed, after Mona had happily settled into an earlier than usual sleep, dreams of stars and moons no doubt easing the way, John took Cat in his arms and held her tightly, as though afraid that she might disappear if he didn't. For a long time they lay there, her head resting against his chest, listening to and feeling the gentle rise and fall but aware too that he wasn't asleep, their naked bodies pressed firmly together, moulding familiarly almost as one. Each knew that this was a period of great danger; that things might change forever once they did what needed to be done. They were mutually afraid and this was the best way they had to comfort each other. As she lay there, Cat reflected on their years together: that first look at the bottom of the gate room stairs that sealed their future; their ups and downs, the arguments and the makings up, losing and finding each other more times than was right, their wedding, Mona and all those wonderful moments on the East Pier. They had, indeed, rescued each other from an emotional vacuum. Lying here, next to him, feeling him so physically with her, she began to cry, not for sadness she didn't think, but for what they might have missed had they not begun this wonderful journey together. Aware of the gentle shaking, he leaned back a little and raised her chin to look at her. Words weren't necessary as she saw matching tears forming in his eyes and then he kissed the wetness away and leant forward to kiss her lips. A kiss which became deeper and more demanding as they both took comfort in each other's body.

Waking slowly the next morning, Cat reached out an arm to find an empty but still warm bed and sat up, wrapping the covers around her in an attempt to keep out the early morning chill. Neither of them liked to sleep in the tepidity that Rodney preferred, needing the homely comfort of a cool room. John was attempting to dress silently and failing as a running shoe dropped to the floor. He cursed under his breath, bent to pick it up and caught her smiling reflection in the mirror.

'Sorry! Tried not to wake you.' He smiled back, pulled up his track suit bottoms a little more from the rather dangerous place they were hanging on his hips and walked over to the bed. 'Just off for a run. You alright?' he asked, then he crawled across the bed towards her and kissed her, peppering littler kisses across her neck and chest, causing her to giggle.

'Mmmm! I'm fine. But can't you stay here for a bit?' For a moment the look in his eyes said 'yes please' then he coughed and stood up. 'Sorry, sweetheart. Big day. Things to do. Ronon's expecting me. See you at breakfast?' She nodded and regretfully watching his bottom run from the room. Only when he'd left did she have a strange feeling so powerful that it caught her breath and she almost ran after him.

'Now what was that about?' she thought.

Cat had a long shower, putting off the moment of waking Mona who was sleeping more peacefully than usual. She had to talk to the little girl urgently. Today was the day when they would try to make the device show up on the screens and she had a really bad feeling about it. 'C'mon Cat!' she said out loud. 'Just get on with it.'

Mona was stirring as Cat entered the room, her starry night light still spinning on the table next to her, sending pale imitations of the images in the astrology lab flashing around the walls. A pair of knowing green eyes looked up at her mother who sat down gently on the edge of the bed and Cat knew she didn't have to say anything. Somehow Mona knew what needed to be done. So, she simply leant forward and gathered Mona into her arms. The little girl responded by hanging on tightly and they sat there silently for some time preparing themselves for the day ahead before they mutually decided to get on with basic practicalities and dressed to join John and their extended 'family' for breakfast.

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully but tediously and Cat wondered how long she'd be able to cope with the tension of waiting. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of empty space and no John, her radio buzzed and his familiar voice, calm to the outsider but etched with worry for those who knew him, told her that it was time to come to the lab. Rodney was ready. She gathered up Mona, smiled in as comforting a way as she could and the two of them strode in that 'Sheppard woman' way towards the old hologram room.

Inside was a veritable who's who of key personnel. The team of course, Teyla smiling encouragingly and putting her arm around Mona as they entered, Ronon leaning with huge casualness against the far wall and Rodney McKay making the last adjustments with Daniel and Radek Zelenka standing close by. Richard Woolsey was pacing nervously up and down the length of the room. Cat met John's eyes and he smiled in encouragement as she and Mona joined him in the centre. She took a moment to appreciate his handsome face, the hair more grey around the edges than she remembered noticing before, but still 'her' John, his hazel eyes expressing all the love he felt for her as they made contact with her blue ones.

Then, at a nod from Rodney, the three joined hands. At first, she felt nothing, and then a small tremor began to shiver through her fingertips, spreading up her arms before shimmering across her skin. Suddenly, she felt the familiar surge as they seemed to join as one, a warmth and a comfort rather than an invasion of person. She felt stronger than she'd ever felt. John's hand grasped hers more tightly as all the bonds of family were strengthened by the gene that flowed powerfully through them.

From a distance she heard a shout then hands pulling her away. She was aware of being thrown back against a hard surface and a voice screaming, 'No! No! No! This is not good.' Then everything went silent.

_**Nearly there...one more chapter of this story. I hope you liked it. Please R and R. You know I appreciate it.**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**This is it! The final chapter. Thanks for the ride and for all the lovely reviews along the way. All I can say is remember the writing on the cube....**_

She stood on the balcony overlooking the gate room. So much had changed and yet in some ways it was just the same: births, marriages, deaths. But this day was the hardest of them all to bear and she wasn't sure if she could get through it. Below her chairs were being arranged in the familiar mock church- aisle style and a raised dais stood at the far end by the gate, ready for the coffin to be placed ceremoniously on it. The pungent perfume of tall white lilies drifted up from the massed vases placed at either side of the aisle and around the platform. She wasn't normally given to tears, but today it was hard and a short sob broke free before she could control it. As though by magic, he was there, a gentle hand on her shoulder from behind comforting her. She raised her own and placed it over his, knowing that he too was suffering but it was typical of him to give others succour and support before his own needs. Since they'd been married, funerals had been far to frequent in the city but she guessed that was one of the inevitable consequences of a growing settlement and the continued threat they were under from whichever 'big bad' decided they needed to be brought down a peg or two. And that made her smile. She was even thinking like John Sheppard now.

In the end, she squeezed her husband's hand and turned away from the preparations. Today would be hard enough and she needed to prepare for it well. And there was another who needed her to be strong. She'd never seen him so broken before, but then, apart from this city, her mother had been his whole life. Pushing her black hair over her ears, she let out an audible sigh.

'I need see Dad. I'm not sure how he will get through today.' She looked up at Torren, her green eyes filled with tears. Mum shouldn't have gone like that. It wasn't right. All the years of fighting and struggling to keep the city, her forays as negotiator and ambassador into dangerous territory, and it was illness that finally took her, and much too young. At just twenty, Mona didn't feel ready to face the years ahead without hearing her mother's soothing voice or feeling the love, and she really did 'feel' it but not in a clichéd kind of way, between her parents. All she could sense now was his pain and she needed to see him, to ease it if she could.

He was where she expected, a lone figure standing forlornly on the edge of the East Pier, no doubt reliving a multitude of many wonderful memories that meant so much to him and Cat. She could see from the hunch of his shoulders how he was suffering. The dress uniform looked stiff and a little large for him as he slouched miserably into the prevailing wind, his mostly grey hair still thick and full and immediately recognisable in its rebellious flicks, though shorter than he'd worn it as a younger man in a rare nod to growing older.

'Dad?' she asked, as she walked towards his back. He didn't turn, just a slight straightening of the shoulders showing that he knew she was there. 'Are you alright?' Stupid question, Mona.

He looked drawn and tired, but more there was a deeply ingrained sorrow in the lines around his eyes and in the furrow of his brow which she doubted would ever be smoothed away. A redness suggested he'd been crying, but the eyes were dry now, ready for the next few hours when he would say his final farewells to Cat. The General's regalia shone brightly as did his medals, signifiers of the years of dedication and heroism at the service of this great city. When he'd retired, a new precedent had been started. He did not return to Earth but had been allowed to stay on in the city he loved and was his home, promoted in recognition of the service he had done, surrounded still by friends and family, both dwindling and growing by now in equal measure.

She noticed a determined breath and he lifted his head and his shoulders, meeting her eye with a deliberate attempt at strength. 'I'm fine, sweetie. Are you okay?'' Mona nodded, tears threatening to well again. She knew he wasn't okay really and she could almost hear her mother's playful chuckle at his familiar phrase. Silently, she took his arm, and the two walked from the pier towards the gate room to say their final farewells.

***

The radio crackled with irritation from the voice at the other end. 'Damn it, Sheppard. Get your arse back here. This is a direct order. You are to return to base immediately. Do you hear me?'

John grimaced at the implied threat. He knew darn well that it could be his career if he ignored it, but there it was. A simple choice. Go back to save his colleagues and know that he had fulfilled the one mantra that meant the most to him, not to leave people behind, or obey the order and possibly never fly again. No brainer really, he thought. He slammed his hand against the radio controls and cut off the voice of his commander and friend.

The helicopter rattled and shuddered with the distant impact of weapons fire from the ground which beneath him appeared to be a blanket of fire. Somewhere they were stranded and he was determined to get them back. Suddenly, out of the smoke, he saw the crashed helicopter. It didn't look good from here, wreckage strewn across the desert floor but there was still a chance that someone had survived. The gun fire seemed to be creeping closer, cracks shattering his airborne silence and then he felt a sickening lurch as one of them found their target. Within seconds, he'd lost control and the craft was spinning nauseously downwards.

Habit and duty made him send his last radio message before he crashed. 'Yankee foxtrot niner to Icarus base. I'm going down. I repeat I'm going down.'

***

She could hear the sound of her mother crying in the next room. The assault this time had been especially violent and the screams still echoed in her ears. A little voice inside her had told her to stop hiding and help, but still she lay here, curled up under the bed, terrified that her father would come for her next. Guilt and fear melted together. A door opened and she saw a big brown lace-up shoe step into the room.

'Catherine? Are you in here?'

She stayed as still as she could, but couldn't prevent little sobs escaping. A big face appeared in front of her.

'You are here. I thought I'd find you skulking. Come out now.'

She didn't want to come out but something in the voice made her do as it told her. As she crept from her hiding place a large hand grabbed her roughly around the arm and pulled her violently, crushing her into his body, breathing powerfully whisky-laced breath into her face.

'Now, Catherine. You didn't hear anything did you?'

She shook her head.

'Good. And you know what happens to bad little girls who tell lies don't you?'

She nodded.

And then he showed her, raining heavy blows until she fell in a bruised heap on her bedroom floor. As he left a distant voice said in her head, 'I'll get you back one day. I promise.'

***

It was a routine mission on a routine day on an ordinary planet in the Pegasus Galaxy. Sometimes, John really felt like he needed to do a bit less of this and he understood what Jack O'Neill meant about the need to retire. On the other hand, the buzz he still felt from going through the Stargate and the pleasure in spending time with the team outweighed any desire he had to leave it all behind and sit behind the proverbial desk. And Cat knew him well. This morning she'd virtually pushed him out of bed and told him to get his lazy ass in gear.

With a smile and a nod to the others, he waved the 'let's move out' signal and as one they moved into their familiar positions, John slightly ahead, Teyla watching their six, McKay fiddling with his recorder with Ronon strolling along next to him, occasionally throwing in little jibes in an attempt to upset the scientist's concentration. John grinned. Sometimes he felt like Captain Kirk, not the Kirk from the 1960's, but the one who really should not be doing this stuff anymore but just couldn't help himself, his team and he aging visibly now but still active. It was a comfortable feeling and not one he wanted to give up, but retirement was indeed hovering on the horizon. Oh well, as long as he didn't have to leave Atlantis and it looked likely now that Stargate Command would accede to that particular request. A partial retirement had been the deal, at least until a replacement leader could be found for Richard Woolsey.

The smile wavered. Woolsey hadn't exactly been a character one warmed to naturally, but the decade and more he'd led them had been stable and secure. In turned out that he had been an excellent choice for the city; a clever man, he was capable of breaking the rules when necessary and of using some wily manipulation if required and his heart attack had genuinely saddened John. The look in the man's eyes as he was stretchered from his home for the last time was one of powerful emotion and he had grasped John's hand with real affection.

And these days, it wasn't just themselves they had to worry about. Teyla hadn't found anyone else after Kanaan had left, but was a devoted mother to her teenage son. Rodney and Katie continued to defy the odds and their two daughters were a credit to them. And Ronon and Amelia, while not going down the traditional route of marriage and children, had settled into a comfortable and mutually supportive relationship. Leaving on a mission was no longer just a case of get yourself ready and go and there was always a nagging fear which each tried to put away of leaving loved ones behind if something were to happen. Mona was a sparkling and vibrant fifteen year old, beautiful and fiery in equal measure and John harboured secret hopes that she would return the looks that Torren frequently threw in her direction. Years ago, he'd wondered if he and Teyla might become a couple until that love developed into the brotherly one he'd felt for a long time and a union of their offspring felt, well just right.

He woke from his reverie to hear the exasperated voice of McKay, whining in the distance. 'Sheppard! Come in Sheppard! Anyone there? Good God! I swear he's getting senile.'

'I hear you McKay. What is it?' John replied, the irritation in his voice enough to shut the scientist up.

'Um, okay! Well, there is a strange energy reading here. I know, I know, strange energy readings we're used to,' he glanced at John's amused face,' but this one is different. There's a familiar pattern that I can't quite grasp and...'

His ramblings were cut short by an almighty blast as the air around them burned with a hot white light. It only lasted seconds, but when it cleared, they were scattered across the landscape, thrown clear of each other by the force. John stirred, groaned and tried to stand, clutching painfully at his right side as he did and thinking, 'not another darn rib' as he did. To his right, Teyla was also moving and he could hear Rodney's complaints beginning to his right.

'Everyone okay?' he asked. Something was missing and then he realised. 'Ronon!' he shouted as he ran over to the prone figure of his friend, his brother and his team mate.

Two blank eyes stared back expressionlessly. With a sob, John's legs crumpled under him and he held the body in his arms, willing it back to life but knowing that it was no use. He was aware of Teyla and McKay approaching and looked up to see his torment reflected in their eyes.

'He's dead. Ronon's dead.'

***

The gate spun remotely, lights flashing as the chevrons locked. Colonel John Sheppard leant on the balcony rail, foot resting on a lower rung, a bored look on his face. A new set of recruits were heading their way from Earth and it was his job to greet them. Mostly, they were scientists or academics, many of whom sneered openly at 'grunts' such as himself and would look at him with disdain as they arrived, but he had made this his job and it was important that they all knew and recognised their military commander from the word go. Who knows when it might just save their arses?

John suppressed a yawn and stood up a little straighter in relaxed military mode, arms behind his back, as the first figures came through. Oh yes, the usual, he thought. They were mostly men, wearing the tell tale blue flashes of the science department and a couple of women. A small, dark haired girl drew his eye. Now she was more like it. Just his type. She looked towards him and he smiled what he thought was his most winning smile, a flash of white teeth, only to be met by a blank stare. Not for the first time recently, he felt as though he was invisible and he wondered if he should stop flirting with the young things on the base. Maybe he really was getting too old for this after all?

He sighed and went to the top of the stairs, ready to introduce himself to the new personnel. The other woman was fiddling with something on the ground, surrounded by boxes, crates, bags and goodness knows what else, her blonde hair reflecting the city's lights. Something about her caught his attention. And then she looked up to meet his eyes and this time she didn't look through him, at least not in a way that said he was invisible. No, the sparkling blue eyes met his firmly and he felt something reach into his heart that he hadn't felt before. His stomach flipped and he knew, just knew that maybe, just maybe this time.....

**All the time of the past comes to the worthy**

**And in our goodness we will receive future time with gratitude**

**Now in our present time past and future will combine in magnificence**

**And when past, present and future time combine by the grace of The Ancestors**

**By the power given to the chosen ones and their inheritors**

**All will alter and change to erase the sins of our children and children's children**

THE END (or is it?)

_**Well, that's it folks. If you picked up these stories half way down the line this will only make absolute sense if you read the first one again 'Maybe This Time'. It's been quite a journey for me, allowing me to discover and re-discover things about myself too and I hope you've enjoyed it. Thank you to everyone who has supported me throughout. Special thanks to Shelly, my 'agent!' who was my first reviewer and has helped me through moments when I thought I might give up; to all the Sisterhood thunkers (you know who you are ladies!); to all the thunkers and whumpers who have given time to comment and review on the way; to everyone who has done me the honour of making me a favourite in some way shape or form; to regular and one-off reviewers who have been overwhelmingly positive and kept me going; and extra special thanks to my number one fan, dreamsqueeze, whose support and praise has meant more than I can possibly say.:)**_

_**It is possible that there might be other Cat/John stories – after all there is some time to fill in – but I think I'll either write some one-shots or go along a different route altogether. See you out there sometime in The Pegasus Galaxy??**_

_**Atlantisjoefan x**_


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